


As Time Goes By

by Laura_Mayfair



Series: As Time Goes By (AU) [1]
Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:37:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Mayfair/pseuds/Laura_Mayfair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slightly AU set about one and a half years after season 1. Andy Flynn transfers to another department within the LAPD to pursue a relationship with Sharon Raydor. Romance. Rated M for adult themes. First in a trilogy. The other two stories are "What the Heart Wants and "Toward a Secret Sky." Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Flynn hadn't wanted a formal farewell party but the squad had managed to coax him into appetizers and drinks at Donovan's, although he would gladly skip the drinks part. Once he wouldn't have—gladly or otherwise—but fifteen years of being sober had dulled the requisite desire for his standard gin and tonic. He could actually go to a sports bar with friends, sit back, and simply enjoy himself without wanting to plunge headfirst into the nearest bottle. He was still proud of the accomplishment.

Provenza hadn't been able to resist the endless supply of jokes now at his disposal since Flynn had announced that he was leaving Major Crimes for a transfer to EPEU: Elder Persons Estate Unit. EPEU would investigate crimes related to theft or embezzlement from elders or dependent adults when a substantial loss of the victim's entire estate was at risk. It wasn't glamorous but it wasn't murder and Flynn felt that he had seen his fill of homicide. Half a block from Major Crimes, Flynn promised the squad that he would be available for lunch—if he could still remember how to get there, beating Provenza to the punch with a boyish smile and a dash of pride.

"She's not there anymore, you lovesick fool," Provenza told his friend gruffly as Flynn gazed forlornly at Raydor's recently vacated seat.

"Huh?"

"Oh please. You've been making sappy doe eyes at her all night long." Provenza did his best Bambi-twitterpated impression and then promptly glowered at his friend. "She's not your supervisor anymore, which, I suspect, is one of the reasons you found the Old Folks Unit so appealing. Grow a pair already and ask her out."

"That's ridiculous. I barely even-like her."

Provenza snorted.

"Besides," Flynn pointed out, "She left."

Provenza polished off his beer with one hearty, final swig. "She'll be back."

Flynn gave his buddy a quizzical look.

"Poor Captain Raydor," explained Provenza, "Big caseload lately. And then with the divorce on top of everything else and empty nest syndrome with Rusty heading off to college. She's a tad off her game. Usually so meticulous. So unlike her to be absent-minded. Of course, it could happen to anyone."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Provenza stood up and stretched as Sharon Raydor clomped rapidly back into the bar and toward the table looking uncharacteristically ruffled. With an imperious shake of her long, caramel colored hair she began lifting napkins and pushing plates aside, clearly looking for something with the pragmatic air that was so completely hers.

Provenza was grinning like the Cheshire cat. "What ill luck! It appears that the good captain has lost her keys." Flynn heard a telltale jingle as Provenza slipped his hand inside his coat pocket.

"You stole her keys?" hissed Flynn.

"Everything all right, Captain?" called Provenza in a lilting coo of empathy and concern.

"I can't find my keys," explained Sharon crossly.

"Oh, that's terrible. Let me help you look. Did you go through your purse?"

"Three times," Sharon replied through half-clenched teeth. Sharon Raydor did not like her orderly world to be in any way mussed. This was both inconvenient and embarrassing.

Flynn watched, both amused and annoyed, as Provenza made a big show of trying to help Sharon find her missing keys. He even spoke to the bartender on her behalf and helped her out of her stylish black trench coat, which, Flynn noted-looked amazing on her-so that she could check the pockets one more time. Provenza was the angelic picture of decorum and solicitous concern.

While Sharon was distracted going through her purse one last time, Provenza mouthed, "Offer to take her home NOW or I will." He proceeded to give Sharon a provocative little once-over purely for Flynn's benefit. Flynn glared at him but looked instantly possessive. _Too easy_. Provenza chuckled to himself.

Flynn touched Sharon's arm to get her attention. He grabbed her coat and gave it a gentlemanly shake, opened it up for her and nodded toward it.

"Come on," he offered. His voice was huskier than he'd intended and he had to clear his throat. "I'll drive you home." Sharon allowed Flynn to help her into her coat. His heart lurched as he watched her untuck her hair from the collar and he had to look away for a moment when she turned toward him, afraid that she'd see the unwavering warmth in his eyes. This was exactly why he'd had to leave Major Crimes. He was losing the ability to be professional around her.

The truth was—he didn't want to be.

"Thank you," Sharon said simply. And she smiled. A look passed between them, quick and subtle. It was a moment. It was a half of a breath, gone even before it came—a spark.

Provenza triumphantly hummed the melody to _As Time Goes By_ under his breath as he watched a flustered Lieutenant Flynn escort an equally distracted Captain Sharon Raydor out of Donovan's, Flynn's hand resting briefly on the small of her back as he held the door for her.

It was an usually chilly December night, cool even for balmly L.A. Flynn's phone vibrated as they neared his car-a little silver Subaru Imprezza. He had finally replaced his previous dilapidated car, which had finally reached its more than timely end. The vibration was a text from Provenza. _I expect to be best man._

"I know I put them in my purse," Sharon mumbled with frustration as she slid into the passenger seat beside Flynn.

"Don't worry. They'll turn up, Sharon. Do you have a set of keys for your apartment on you?"

"Damnnit" Sharon sighed. "No. They're on the keyring with my car keys. And Joe's in San Diego this weekend." Joe was the sweet little Portuguese man who was the caretaker at Sharon's apartment. "I'll give his son a call." She looked up his number in her cell phone address book, punched the call through, and sighed again when voice mail picked up.

"2:30 in the morning on a Friday night. This isn't looking promising."

"Maybe not but I can offer you my bed." Flynn instantly reddened. " _A_ bed," he clarified. "In the guest room. Of my house." He couldn't be sure but he thought he saw her smiling in the darkness. Andy Flynn decided that he was going to throttle Louie Provenza for putting him through this humiliation and for putting Sharon through all of this inconvenience.

"Thanks. Looks like I don't have much of a choice."

Not exactly the words you want to hear from the woman that you're desperately attracted to but then again, just the thought of Sharon Raydor and him alone together was doing very unfair things to his senses. And it wasn't as if they weren't friends. Over the past year, they'd been spending an awful lot of time together because of the job. He'd been a sounding board through the progress of her divorce from that atrocity of a husband and he didn't regret one moment spent with her. But it had always been through the arm's length lens of their professional relationship. Other than the occasional brush of a hand or a lingering look, no lines had been crossed. There was banter. Flynn loved the verbal repartee. Sharon was a clever woman; he had a sense of humor. Their flirtation often wore the guise of mutual disdain but that was half the charm.

Sharon had always loved Andy's house. It was more Boston than L.A. and she adored him for it. It was cozy and unpretentious. Like him. She quickly censored the thought. She shouldn't be thinking about Andy Flynn like that.

"It smells good in here," Sharon commented as they stepped into the spacious kitchen.

"I made spaghetti and meatballs last night. You hungry?"

Andy loved to cook as much as Sharon hated it, a fact he often teased her about when he tried to identify the mysterious and highly questionable home-made lunches that she brought to work. Eventually, Flynn had started letting her try the stuff he brought in for lunch. She'd been reluctant at first but he'd worn her down with his classic Italian cooking. It had almost become a weekly tradition of bringing something in just for her. He'd never admit it, but he enjoyed flexing his culinary muscles for her.

"Mmmm," Sharon hummed. "I am a little hungry." She could smell the scent of his after shave mixed in with the leather of his jacket as he leaned over to help her out of her coat.

"I'll heat something up for us," Flynn offered. "Mind if I throw on some jeans?"

"Go ahead."

Flynn observed her when she wasn't looking, something he'd become quite adept at doing. She looked stylish and so elegantly beautiful in the knee length black pencil skirt and deep red blouse. That dark shade of red was such a great color on her.

"I can hook you up with a pair of sweatpants that I shrunk in the dryer and a sweatshirt. They'll be big on you but maybe you'd be more comfortable?"

Sharon considered this for a moment. "Okay. Thanks."

"Come on. Let me show you the guest room." He stopped himself a split second before he almost reached for her hand.

Andy led Sharon to a cheerful room painted in buttery yellow. There was a dresser, double bed, and a nightstand. Andy disappeared for a few moments and returned with the promised sweatpants, sweatshirt, and a pair of socks.

"I didn't want your feet to be cold," he explained about the socks. Socks were pretty obvious. There wasn't really any need to explain socks. He felt like a fifteen year old boy with a crush. It was unnerving.

"Thanks," she said as she took the clothes from him. There was a pause, another moment in time suspended.

Yet another spark. Andy would have thought that he'd be used to them by now. But he wasn't. And neither was she.

"I'll...um...let you change. And while you do that, I'll warm up the leftovers." There was another pause, awkward, but also charged with an electricity and a fire that just wouldn't seem to elude them tonight.

Sharon nodded. Andy exited the room and gently closed the door behind him. Pulse racing, he closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath on his side of the door while Sharon Raydor did the exact same thing on the opposite side. Slow, symmetrical breaths. In sync. Simultaneous.

Together.

Only a door apart.


	2. Chapter 2

"Andy, do you have an extra toothbrush?" Sharon asked, poking her head into the kitchen. As Andy turned to face her, she was just emerging from the archway. Even in his oversized navy blue sweats, she was still classy Sharon, although now she was classy mixed with adorable. She must have had hairpins in her purse because she'd piled her long reddish hair into a surprisingly orderly upsweep given the circumstances. A few wayward strands dared to defy her careful neatness and wafted softly about her cheekbones. Andy Flynn imagined plucking the pins out one by one while he kissed her…

"Andy?"

"Yes?"

"Did you have….an extra toothbrush?" she repeated.

"I do. Follow me." He led her to the guest bathroom, opened up a drawer, and pulled out three toothbrushes all still in their boxes: Elmo, Cookie Monster, and Big Bird. He held them out to her.

"Pick one," he instructed. Sharon smiled and chose the blue one with Cookie Monster on the handle. "Sometimes my grand-kids stay," he explained with a very boyish smile and shrug of his shoulders. Sharon Raydor melted inwardly. But on the outside she was a model of cool composure.

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you like this," she apologized sincerely.

"It's no problem; the company's nice."

"Mmmmm, it is," she agreed. "I mean you. Not me. Not that I'm not nice. But I mean your company is-mutually pleasant." _So much for cool and calm composure, Sharon._ "I'm going to—" She gave the toothbrush a delicate wave.

"There's some floss in the medicine cabinet," he offered helpfully. Anything to fill the awkwardness. "There are towels in the closet. If you want to take a shower. Cold is toward the shower wall and hot is…."

"Toward the sink?" she supplied.

Andy swallowed. "Yeah. You got it." He shuffled his feet. Sharon looked up at him through long lashes and hoped to God that she didn't look as gooey on the outside as she felt on the inside. Why did he have to look so damned good in those jeans and that denim shirt, leaning against the door frame like that? "Have everything you need, Sharon?"

A myriad of completely inappropriate responses tumbled through Sharon Raydor's head.

"I'm good. Thanks." It came out almost sharply—which was not at all what she had intended. But in an effort to cover up what she was really feeling, her tone was brusque. Nothing new. It was the reason people often assumed that she was a cold bitch.

"Really—Andy—" she touched his arm. "Thank you." Feeling suddenly vulnerable, she turned abruptly toward the sink.

Andy headed back toward the kitchen. It was almost 3:00 in the morning. Sharon Raydor was dressed in his clothes in his guest bathroom. He couldn't have been more wide awake if he tried. He whistled while he worked, heating up the sauce and meatballs on the stove and boiling the water for the spaghetti.

"Can I help?" asked Sharon. He hadn't heard her come in.

"You're pretty stealthy in those socks, Captain," he teased. "Didn't even hear you come in."

"Maybe I should wear them on the job. I don't know though. My stilettos make a pretty good weapon."

"I don't know how you women walk around in those things. I'd be on my ass."

"Oh, believe me…I've taken my share of spills. With absolute grace, of course." She smiled.

"Of course."

"I would've just thrown everything in the microwave," Sharon commented, her tone genuinely complimentary.

"Nah. Makes the meatballs rubbery. And you just can't reheat pasta. The soul of my little Italian grandmother would never forgive such a sacrilege. It won't be long. Can you grab the Parmesan cheese from the fridge? Behind you."

Sharon opened up his refrigerator and looked around for the green Kraft container. "I don't see it." Andy stepped up next to her, reached in, and pulled out a little container. He gave it a shake and opened it. Inside was freshly grated Parmesan cheese.

"Ah, I should have known. You don't want to know what kind I use."

"Shhhh." He covered his ears with mock sobriety. "My little Italian grandmother would be scandalized."

"Is that why you're so neat? The house is immaculate."

"I have four brothers. My mother had to be strict with five boys. She taught us to clean up after ourselves. That and—my ex-wife was a clutterbug. Drove me crazy. I became a little bit overzealous about being neat after the divorce. Of course, it's easy when it's just you, ya know?"

"I do. Andy, let me do something. You're going to all this trouble…."

"Nah. This is easy. Okay if I serve you?" he asked, grabbing a plate.

"Thank you."

Andy filled two plates with spaghetti and meatballs. "We could eat in here or in the dining room."

"Oh, here is fine. Cozy." Sharon grabbed the Parmesan while Andy carried the two plates, some forks and knives, and two cloth napkins over to the table. There was a neatly sliced loaf of Italian bread and some butter already spread out for them.

"Something to drink?" Andy offered.

"What are you having?"

He grinned. "Ginger ale on the rocks."

"Mmmm, that sounds good. I'll have the same."

They chatted and laughed throughout the meal. Conversation was easy and fluid. Sharon wouldn't stop telling him what a fantastic cook he was and Andrew Flynn was beaming. They were both buzzing from something far more potent than booze.

"My God, that was so good!" Sharon laughed. "I'm stuffed. Let me help you clean up."

"It' just all goes in the dishwasher." They couldn't stop smiling at one another. "Sharon, you have—" he moved his hand to the side of his mouth—"a little bit of spaghetti sauce right…."

"Oh!" She grabbed her napkin and did a cursory wipe, tilting her face. "Did I get it?"

"No…it's…." He made another gesture to the side of his own face. She continued to rub with the napkin but was just missing one little spot. Finally, Andy took the napkin from her, leaned over and removed the last remnants of the pasta sauce. "Got it," he affirmed. He was close enough to feel the warmth of her body. They were acutely aware of one another without even touching. It was Sharon who broke the moment.

"Let me help you with this!" she exclaimed and sprang up, nearly knocking over her half empty glass of ginger ale. She was suddenly in high-octane efficiency mode and, although the kitchen was spotless in no time, Andy felt as if the warm, receptive Sharon who had begun to open up during dinner had suddenly retreated. He wondered what he had done wrong to make her disappear.

"Dinner was spectacular. Again, thank you. I should let you get to bed." Sharon laughed softly. "You know—before the sun comes up."

"Sharon—" _Say it, Andy. Say something to her. Tell her how you feel about her.  
_

She looked at him expectantly. Waiting. Her green eyes shone with something that Andrew Flynn couldn't name. Luminous. She'd never quite looked at him the way she was looking at him now. It rendered him speechless.

"Goodnight," he said finally.

"Goodnight," she agreed.


	3. Chapter 3

It was 6:00 in the morning on a rainy Saturday and Lieutenant Andrew Flynn finally threw off his covers with an exasperated grunt. He hadn't slept a wink all night. Not for lack of trying. He'd roll over and try to sleep but he'd swear that he could still smell the fresh white floral of Sharon's perfume. He'd flip his pillow over, giving it a frustrated punch and plunk his head back down only to imagine two green-grey eyes gazing back at him. The burnished copper richness of her voice continued to haunt him and he wondered what that same voice would feel like cascading against his chest if he ever got the chance to hold her.

Sharon Raydor fared no better in the adjacent room. She was equally restless and had not slept one bit. It didn't help that she was wearing Andy's clothes. They smelled like him—a mixture of fresh laundry, spicy cologne, spearmint and a twinge of Dove soap. The man smelled _good_. If she could immerse herself from head to toe in Eau d'Andy, she would! Even better, maybe he could immerse himself straight into her. This was the very train of thought that was compromising her sleep. It had been a very long time since desire like this had taken hold of her—if ever—and she wasn't exactly sure what to do with the restless energy. Their working together wasn't technically a problem anymore and Sharon found herself both enthralled by the freedom that it had opened up but also a little bit frightened about exploring what she felt for him. Andy Flynn had been much safer from a distance. She was already emotional over the impending divorce and the buried feelings that it had stirred up. Coupled with all of that, dealing with her feelings for Lieutenant Flynn had made the cool and rational Sharon feel—overwhelmed.

While Sharon closed her eyes one more time and attempted sleep, Andy gave up the good fight and stomped to the bathroom. Remembering that Sharon was next door, he quickly ceased the stomping and shuffled into the shower.

He took a cold one.

He brushed his teeth and dressed—another pair of blue jeans and a navy blue shirt. He was still full from their late night meal. He padded into the den, turned on the television, lowered the volume, and turned on his Xbox. He decided that a little "Call of Duty," a testosterone-laden first person shooter game, might allow him to blow off some steam.

It didn't.

Swearing under his breath after his team's third loss, Andy didn't hear Sharon come in until he heard her familiar voice, "You play Xbox, Lieutenant?" She sounded interested…and amused.

"Yeah. Every once in a while."

"Team Deathmatch?" asked Sharon.

Andy turned to her—surprised. "Yeah."

"Loadout?"

"Custom. I like the Famas. Versatile for short or medium range."

"I prefer stealth."

Andy grinned. "Sniper? When did you start playing Xbox?"

"Sniper…yes. And I started playing with Rusty. It was a bonding thing." She flashed a lovely smile at him. "I must admit—I do get a rather sadistic pleasure in squashing some of the arrogant assholes who play."

"What's your Gamertag, Sharon?"

She smirked and her green eyes glittered. "DarthRaydor."

Andy released a very loud laugh.

She was laughing, too. "I couldn't let such an epic epithet go to waste. Going to play with me sometime?"

Andy almost dropped the controller. He knew that sleep deprivation and the night of suppressed arousal must be making him delirious but the way she posed the question sounded completely naughty.

"Yes," he croaked.

She cocked her head to one side, a thoughtful gesture that he'd seen her do when considering a case. "Good," she hummed.

"Any word on your keys?"

"Not yet. Donovan's opens at noon but the staff is in at 10:00. I'll call them first thing. Sorry to interrupt your Saturday morning routine."

"I don't mind….really, Sharon."

"Are you going to Brenda's Christmas party on Friday?" Sharon asked casually.

"I am. You?"

"Yes."

He considered this. "Parking's going to be a bitch. We could car pool. I can pick you up and take you back to your apartment afterwards." _Why did this feel like high school all over again? When did telling a woman that you want to date her become so difficult, Andy? Once upon a time you were good at this. But this wasn't just any woman. This was Sharon_.

"Good idea. Sounds like a plan."

They spent the next couple of hours watching the old black and white screwball comedy _Bringing Up Baby_ on AMC. Sharon was curled up on one end of the L shaped couch and Andy reclined lazily on the other end. He was enjoying watching the movie but he spent most of the time watching her. He hadn't had the opportunity to hear her laugh nearly enough at work. Sharon Raydor had a glorious laugh: warm, bubbly and straight from the heart. It made her entire face light up.

It was also incredibly sexy.

Sharon enjoyed the way they laughed at the same things. He had watched a documentary on the making of the film and he peppered her with trivia and little anecdotes in between scenes, always with that dry sense of humor of his. He also had a habit of talking with his hands, especially when he was excited about something. He had great hands. Sharon had to stop looking at them because she couldn't stop thinking about what they might feel like against her skin.

Toward the end of the movie, Sharon's cell phone rang. She excused herself, picked it up, and walked into the next room. She was back a moment later and Andy knew exactly what she was going to say.

"They found my keys," she announced.

"Oh, great," Andy replied—with false enthusiasm.

"I'm going to get dressed and—"

"I'll take you over to Donovan's."

"Thanks."

Their mutual disappointment was as potent as their mutual desire.

* * *

It was Monday morning and Andy was on his way to meet Provenza at the local coffee shop for a much needed caffeine fix. His former partner made it clear that Andy owed him a cup of coffee for "gift wrapping" Sharon Raydor for him.

Provenza arrived first, ordered his coffee and muffin, and grabbed an isolated booth by a window. The first thing he noticed when Andy Flynn walked in was that his friend looked terrible. He looked tired and bleary and it wasn't the mere normal Monday morning blues. Besides, Flynn should be positively glowing.

"You look like hell," accused Provenza as Flynn sat down across from him.

"I feel like hell," groaned Flynn irritably.

"Heh…she wore you out already?"

"No. I'm not discussing my sex life with you."

"So you and the captain _did_ do the horizontal tango!" cackled Provenza triumphantly.

"No. And you do realize that you sound like a sexist pig." It was a statement, not a question.

"I AM a sexist pig," affirmed Provenza proudly. "Fine. You were a gentleman. At least tell me that you had a marathon make-out session? Whispered sweet-nothings in her frosty ear? Lined up a date?"

"I'm car pooling with her on Friday for Brenda's Christmas party," mumbled Flynn.

"Car pooling? Car pooling? I stole her keys and you got to take her home only to make a nice, polite little car pool arrangement?"

"I couldn't just blurt it out." Flynn played with the napkin dispenser. "She was my commanding officer for almost two years. You know how she is about rules and regulations. The rules have changed. I need to help her see the transition of our relationship."

Provenza crossed his arms over his chest. "All right. Let's do some math. You've known her for how many years? And I'm talking about way back to her wicked witch days at FID when she used to scare small children and ride a broomstick—which might I remind you—she still does on occasion."

"A little over five years. I've known her for a little over five years."

"Go on."

"And she drove me crazy for a majority of them. Crazy as in we couldn't stand one another and crazy as in I'm crazy about her. At one time it was both. I didn't know whether I wanted to kill her or kiss her. And now I just want to kiss her."

"That's a slow burn, my friend. There's none of this mamby pamby 'we need a transition period' crap. You should be glowing from a weekend of post-coital bliss. Why do you look like death warmed over?"

"I couldn't sleep with her in the house. I kept thinking about her in the next room and—"

"And you didn't go in there to fluff her pillows? For God's sake, man, what you've done…what you HAVEN'T done…is an affront to all men. And I even stole her keys…car pooling..."

"I didn't _ask_ you to take the woman's keys," Flynn snapped. He looked at his watch. "Oh, and speaking of which—she's onto you." He grabbed his coffee and slid out of the booth.

Provenza narrowed his eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that she commented that you're never as helpful as you were Friday night unless you have an agenda."

Provenza crinkled up his empty coffee cup. "She's going to do something horrible to me, isn't she?"

Flynn smirked for the first time all morning. "Probably."

* * *

When Provenza arrived at Major Crimes he knew that he was definitely in trouble. Raydor was extra early and her office door was closed. This was a sure sign that the captain was in there organizing something (i.e. plotting something) and Provenza waited for the other shoe to drop.

At a little after nine Sykes breezed by his desk, "Raydor wants to see you in her office."

Provenza broke the pencil that he was holding with a loud crack, stood up, and waltzed into Captain Sharon Raydor's office. She looked better than Flynn had although she wore more make-up than usual and she looked tired. Her suit and her hair was even more impeccable than was typical, as if she had taken extra pains to appear as If nothing were amiss. Raydor was not an easy woman to read but Provenza would be willing to bet that she was as enamored of Andy Flynn as he was of her. Although Provenza would never admit it, over the course of time he had developed a certain begrudging respect for the Wicked Witch. Underneath all of the prickles, she was a rather decent human being. Once in a while, he even liked her.

"Good morning," Sharon said cheerfully and greeted Provenza with a smile.

He knew in that one moment that Sharon Raydor knew that he had taken her keys. And she was going to make him pay for it. Dearly.

"Captain." Provenza didn't sit down.

"As you know, our case load has been unusually large lately. I'm swamped. And on top of all that, they want me to go through a handful of cases from last year with a fine tooth comb to make sure that we're incorporating the new procedures that they revised into place for subsequent cases. Unfortunately, we'll have to wade through quite a bit of code and policy. I'll handle most of them, of course, but as second in command, I wonder if you might help me with a few?"

This was unusual—not because it was outside of her purview to delegate work this way—but because Raydor was so meticulous about careful adherence to policy that she usually took care of things like this on her own. Provenza knew that it wasn't about benevolence; it was about her little idiosyncratic inner control-freak taking command and not trusting anyone else to do the job as well as she could. Which, Provenza had to admit, was probably true. The fact that she worked so diligently on these detailed projects was one of the pluses about working for her—because the team didn't have to. She usually took care of this kind of thing herself. Provenza absolutely detested this kind of work and Sharon knew it. He also knew that she must be royally pissed off at him to pass this along, relinquishing her precious codes and mandates to him. It would take hours of reading boring manuals and rehashing old cases, both of which Provenza detested, almost as much as he detested her at this moment.

"Sure, I can do that, Captain," Provenza offered agreeably, squaring his shoulders. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of looking rattled.

"The binder is over there," gestured Sharon.

Provenza picked up the hefty six inch binder and headed toward the door.

"Oh," Sharon added sweetly before Provenza was completely out the door, "I also forgot to mention that I signed you up to attend HR's diversity meeting next week. If you could just take some notes and give a short briefing to the squad—that would be so much appreciated."

Provenza grunted something unintelligible that included diversity presentation followed by a slew of four letter words.

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

* * *

On Wednesday, Provenza hadn't even gotten through ten percent of the piles of paperwork that Sharon had dropped in his lap while she, on the other hand, was halfway done with her half of the pile.

"She's not human," complained Provenza over lunch with Flynn. "I always knew that woman was a Cylon. No normal person can get through all that crap so fast."

"All those years in FID; she's got a knack for it," said Flynn. "Besides, you totally deserved what you got."

Provenza spit out a piece of grainy tomato into his napkin. "Maybe. Rumor has it her son-of-a-bitch husband found another loophole in the divorce proceedings and she's going to have to wait another month for the finalization."

Flynn stiffened. "Really?"

Provenza nodded. "She took some personal time unexpectedly this morning after her lawyer called. And she's been shut up in her office ever since. She looks like she's having a bad day. Serves her right after saddling me with all of that paperwork," he added grouchily.

"You're all heart, Louie."

"I try."

Flynn got up. "Thanks for lunch."

"You're going to go check in on her!" Provenza exclaimed and pointed an accusatory finger at Flynn.

"Yup." Flynn smiled.

Flynn made a "casual stroll" through Major Crimes on his way back to EPEU. It was easy since the break room where he had lunch with Provenza was right there. If Sharon really were closed up in her office, he'd be out of luck. But Flynn hoped that he might catch her eye walking by and get a chance to say hello. More importantly, he was struck by the need to make sure that she was all right.

Sharon felt like it had been the longest day. She hadn't felt like going back to work after her meeting with her divorce lawyer but, of course, she did. She was putting the offending paperwork that he had presented her with in her briefcase to take care of later when she saw Andy Flynn walking by. His warm brown eyes met her sad green ones and he waved as he approached the door frame, leaning in.

"No lunch today, Sharon?"

"I had a little something at my desk," she answered.

"Ah." Andy decided to go out on a very big limb. "Are you all right?" It was only then that he noticed the puffiness around her eyes. He probably wouldn't have noticed a year ago and he was pretty sure the casual observer wouldn't—but he didn't observe Sharon casually these days—she had been crying.

"I'm fine," she replied stiffly.

"Oh, okay. Good." He started to walk away but then changed course. "Because if you weren't, I'm going straight home after work. And if you needed to talk. Well…the door's open."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Flynn," she said quietly. "I'll keep that in mind. And if you would be so kind as to close _my_ door on your way out, I'd appreciate it."

"Sure." Flynn answered, feeling as if he'd just been doused with ice water.

When he had closed the door and left, Sharon Raydor sobbed into the back of her hand without making a single, solitary sound.


	4. Chapter 4

Andy had been home for a little over an hour and there was no sign of Sharon, not that he really expected there to be after the cool reception he had received in her office. Whatever she was going through, she clearly didn't want to share it with him and he knew that he had to be an adult and accept it. But that didn't mean that it didn't hurt. Maybe it was karma biting him in the ass; for years, he had been pretty impenetrable himself beneath the heady haze of booze, leaving his kids on the outside looking in. He was finding it to be a pretty unfriendly place.

Not feeling very hungry, Andy made a cup of tea. The weather was unusually cool and rainy. The sound of the heavy rain pattered against the skylight. He sat down on the couch and read the paper, although the words didn't have any meaning as he scanned the page. After reading the same paragraph three times, he decided to give up on the paper and zone out in front of the TV instead, anything but the news. As he got up to retrieve the remote from the television stand, the doorbell rang.

Sharon Raydor was a wet, disheveled, beautiful mess standing on his doorstep in the pouring rain in her soaked black trenchcoat and sleek black Coach high heel boots—which were probably beyond saving. Her car was running; Andy could see the lights on. And without hesitation, he pulled her inside.

"I'll ruin your hardwoods."

"Screw the hardwoods, Sharon."

"I can't stay. I just came by to apologize for—"

"Give me your keys," Andy demanded. It was the tone he used when he wanted a suspect to do what he wanted. Firm, unequivocal, and completely uncompromising. Sharon had heard it, of course, but it had never been directed at her. She slipped her keys into his palm without a word and watched him rush out into the unforgiving weather, hurriedly dash inside her car, turn it off, and run back into the house. "Don't move," he told her severely.

Andy disappeared down the hallway and reappeared only moments later with a handful of towels. Sharon had removed her coat. The burgundy silk blouse underneath was wet. She looked cold, tired, and sad.

"Give me your boots." She bent down and took off the left one. She was shaky. Whatever had happened today had really rattled her. As she removed the right one, her balance was slightly off and she teetered. Andy steadied her, one hand on her waist. It was pure reflex. He held onto her a few seconds longer than would have been necessary simply to help her restore her balance.

"I left a bathrobe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Go change and I'll hang up your things. It shouldn't take them too long to dry out. Can I get you a cup of tea?"

"Yes. Thank you."

In the bathroom, Sharon removed her wet blouse and damp skirt. She had gotten caught in the downpour leaving the office. Her umbrella had been in the car. Always prepared, she usually kept a spare one in the office but she'd loaned it to someone a while back and they had never returned it. Andy's white terrycloth robe was too big but she was grateful for something warm and dry. She took off her glasses, dried them, slipped them inside their case, and deposited them into her purse. She towel dried her hair as best she could and ran a brush through it. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. _This is as good as it's going to get today_.

Sharon found Andy on the couch in the den. He'd brought over a little portable end table for their tea. She'd turned him on to a particular brand of Oolong tea from a tiny little hole in the wall Asian market on Juniper St. She drank it just like he did—black. He patted the place next to him at the L of the couch where they could share the end table and face one another to talk.

"Sit."

Sharon sat down, noticing that Andy had changed his shirt. "I'm so sorry for the way I behaved earlier," she began, speaking in her slow, steady rhythm. "You were very considerate to inquire about my welfare and I was exceedingly rude."

"You don't have to apologize. I'm not angry. I'm worried about you but I'm not angry."

"You don't have to worry about me. I'm really fine. As you know, Richard's been dragging his feet about the divorce. He's not done punishing me. I had another chat with my lawyer after work, which is why I was delayed getting over here. The picture isn't as bad as it appeared. Tony said that it would actually only be another couple of weeks." She looked down at her hands. "I just want it to all be over."

Andy knew a little bit about Sharon and her husband—but really she hadn't told him all that much. Her family was very wealthy and Sharon had admittedly been a "trust fund" baby. She had been accepted into Harvard law school and had surprised everyone in her family when, at the last minute, she joined the police instead. She admitted that it was as much an act of pure rebellion as it was her desire to make a difference. Her father grew ill shortly afterwards and her parents applied collective pressure on her to marry Richard Raydor, a successful lawyer from a "good" family. Sharon had an older sister who had been a bit of a wild child. Sharon was always expected to "be the good one," a role that she had almost always adhered to.

Against her better judgment, she married Richard shortly after the pronouncement that her father was terminally ill. She was twenty-four. She had twins a year later, a boy and a girl. Sharon had traded a controlling father for a controlling husband. She described her marriage as "polite" at the beginning but over the course of time, as Sharon became more sure of herself and independent, there was more and more tension.

She had explained once to Andy, "I thought that I was happy. I didn't know anything else. I wasn't happy; I was numb. Richard loved me—in his own way. He's an arrogant, self-important man and he's never been able to forgive me for not adoring him. I begged—I pleaded for a divorce when the kids were entering middle school. But Richard was excellent at guilt trips. A divorce will destroy the children. Blah blah blah. But at the heart of it, it was the money. And the fact that it galled him that I wanted out. His ego couldn't bear the fact that I didn't want to be married to him, no matter how incompatible we were."

Sharon's explanation explained why she had stayed with her husband when the children were young. Andy could understand that. But it puzzled him that they hadn't divorced after her children were grown. He knew that she hadn't told him the full story and he hadn't wanted to pressure her into telling him the rest until she was ready.

She looked at Andy now as she sipped her tea. She put her cup down and rested her hands in her lap. She spoke without meeting his eyes.

"I'm going to tell you something that I haven't shared with another living soul."

"Sharon, you don't have to…"

She met his eyes then. "I want to." She looked down at her hands again. "You'll just have to be patient with the telling. And you might not like me very much afterwards." She laughed nervously.

Andy leaned toward her. "There's nothing that you could tell me that would change the fact that I like you very much."

Sharon closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again, swallowed, and began. "I've told you a lot about my marriage but I haven't told you everything. When the twins were fourteen, I became friendly with my daughter Kate's swim coach. A man named Michael. Kate was best friends with a girl named Melanie. They'd been close since they were little girls. Michael was Melanie's father. He was a widower. Very friendly and outgoing. The guy knew everyone. My marriage had pretty much dissolved into a marriage in name only. Michael was attentive. We had….," she paused and the next word seemed to stick in her throat…."chemistry. I'm sorry; this is really hard." Sharon took a deep, slow breath. Her eyes were watery and she blinked away the tears.

"Hey….hey….I'm right here," Andy reminded her. He reached out with both of his hands and took hers, holding them, squeezing them, gently stroking her hands in his.

She began speaking very rapidly. "Michael and I began meeting secretly, always in public. We kissed once or twice." She admitted this with a reluctance that was palpable and Sharon shuddered at the memory. "He wanted me to meet him at a hotel. I agreed. When I got there, I made it to the lobby but I couldn't go through with it. Richard and I had our problems but having an affair wasn't something I wanted to do just because I couldn't stand up to my husband. So I left with the intention of finally sticking to my guns, demanding a divorce, and not taking no for an answer.

"About a week later," Sharon continued, "I got a call from Kate's guidance counselor asking my husband and I to come down to the school. My daughter had confided in her that Michael had exposed himself to her and to a couple of other girls on the swim team." Sharon was crying now. "He'd made some inappropriate comments to her before that incident but she had tried to dismiss them since it was her friend's father. But when he exposed himself, she got scared and, thank goodness, reported it to the guidance counselor before anything worse happened. Not that that isn't bad enough. You can't even begin to imagine how guilty I felt." Her voice rose. "How could I not have seen him for what he was? I was a cop, for God's sake! I read people all the time. I was trained to see things like that."

"Sharon—"

"My skin still crawls when I think about it. And what kind of a mother was I that my daughter felt that she couldn't come to me?"

"I'd say that you were a pretty damned good one that your daughter talked to anybody at all. It's hard for kids to confess something like that to their parents."

"One of Richard's former clients had seen me with Michael. The client told my husband and Richard flew through the roof. He was convinced that I had had an affair. And to be truthful—I almost did, didn't I? If I hadn't had second thoughts…. After that, everything was such a huge mess. There were legal proceedings. It was really difficult for Kate. She had to testify. She lost her best friend. After things settled down, I went to Richard again, asking for a divorce. I figured that maybe now he'd be happy to be rid of his unfaithful wife who makes horrible choices and trusts predators. But he wouldn't hear of it. How could I even consider a divorce after everything that the family had been through? I found out later that my husband had a rather serious gambling problem and had gone through a great deal of his own money. He needed and wanted mine. And you know what? I didn't care anymore. I couldn't even begin to consider ever letting someone else into my life so why even bother getting a divorce? I married a horrible man and almost slept with one who was even worse. I stayed married because it was 'safe.' Richard finally agreed to a separation and we've been legally separated since the kids went off to college….13 years."

"Sharon, it's not your fault. Your husband used your guilt for his own benefit," he said angrily.

"I know," she said softly. "I let him. Because deep down I've always felt that I deserved it." Tears streamed down her face and she was trembling. Andy wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. She cried openly then, burying her face in his shoulder.

Her voice was muffled. "32 years of marriage. I had my 55th birthday in March and I just couldn't do it anymore. I just couldn't do it anymore," she repeated. "And today when my lawyer called and told me that there would be another delay….I'm sorry."

Andy stroked her damp hair. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I got your shirt all wet," she informed him randomly.

"Mmmmm," was all he said as he continued to hold her.

"I know all about self-punishment, Sharon. And I don't recommend it. When I look back at my marriage, I'll be the first to admit that the majority of our problems were my fault. _My_ drinking. It made it extremely easy to take on the rest of the blame. So I just shouldered all of it. It took me a long time to realize that, while yes I was responsible for some things, I wasn't responsible for everything. You have to let it go, sweetheart. You have to let it go." He gently pulled her face out of the crook of his shoulder so that he could look at her.

Sharon seemed to suddenly realize just how close they were and she blushed. She disentangled herself slowly from his arms and tried to distance herself from the intimacy by smoothing her tousled hair. "Andy, there are other things that I want to say to you but right now—"

"You're not ready," he nodded. "It's okay, Sharon. There's no rush. Just know that when you _are_ ready, I'd like to hear them." He grinned at her. "I might even have a few words to say back."

She found his hand and squeezed it. "Thank you," she whispered.

Andy offered to make her something light for supper but Sharon refused. The house felt empty after she had left and he found that he wasn't all that hungry either. At 10:00, stretched out on the sofa, he resisted the urge to call her. He feared that Sharon would go right back to putting on her Captain-mask and didn't want that to happen. She surprised him, however, by calling _him_.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" she asked tentatively.

"Not at all. I'm old, Sharon, but I'm not _that_ old."

"I think I left my scarf on your sink in the bathroom."

"You did. Shall I bring it in tomorrow?"

"That's okay. You can give it to me on Friday; you still want to drive over to Brenda's party together?"

"Absolutely."

Sharon was quiet. "Andy?"

"Yes?"

"The scarf was just an excuse. I really called just because I wanted to hear your voice."

Andy Flynn swallowed the lump that welled up in his throat at the raw honesty in her confession. "My phone is always on. You sound utterly exhausted, Shar. You should get some rest, okay?"

"All right. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Andy put the phone down and picked up the gauzy burgundy and black scarf, tracing the fabric through his fingers while the television droned in the background. And all he could think about was Sharon.


	5. Chapter 5

"So how are things in geriatrics?" Provenza asked Flynn with a flippant twinkle in his eye, hastily stealing yet another one of his former partner's hash browns over Friday morning breakfast.

"I told you you should have gotten some," Flynn scolded him.

"They wouldn't have tasted as good if I had gotten my own."

Flynn rolled his eyes and pushed the small paper bag over to Provenza. "Knock yourself out. Things in EPEU are fine. You know, it's actually interesting and rewarding work. "

"Keep telling yourself that. By the way, your 'wife' held me hostage for almost an hour yesterday to go over _twenty pages of conduct code revisions_."

"My 'wife?'" asked Flynn with a raised eyebrow.

"You see her on a daily basis and you're not having sex. That's marriage."

"Charming," Flynn said dryly. "You're a real romantic."

Provenza tipped his head back and rolled the kinks out of his shoulders. He then scrunched up the empty hash brown bag and dug two pieces of Bazooka gum out of his pocket, popping them into his mouth. With a mouthful of gum, he complained, "She's given me a repetitive stress injury from forcing me to nose around in those pesky files. I'm plotting my revenge." He rubbed his neck dramatically.

Flynn frowned. "Give her a break. She's going through a hard time."

"Raydor and I enjoy tormenting one another; it's the defining dynamic of our relationship," Provenza said this with surprising fondness. His voice softened. "I know she is. She's quieter than usual these days. She'll pull through though. She's resilient and she's relentless. Rusty's coming home in a few days for winter break; that'll cheer her up. Stop worrying about her, Romeo. You _could_ distract her from her troubles and invite her out on a real date like we both know you want to."

"When the time is right."

"Tic toc. The clock is ticking, my friend."

* * *

Sharon hung up with the coroner's office and walked over to forensics to give Morales her notes and to ask a couple of questions on her most recent case. On her way back to her desk, Buzz nearly knocked her over as he bustled by carrying several bulky boxes that were obscuring his view.

"Oh, Captain, I'm so sorry," he apologized.

"It's all right; I'm fine."

Buzz noticed that she was walking a bit oddly. "Are you sure, ma'am?"

"Yes," she called over her shoulder. "No worries."

Sykes stopped Sharon as she passed by her desk. "Captain, I have that report that you wanted from ballistics." She handed Sharon a manila folder and noticed that she seemed to be making an extra effort to pick up her right foot. Sykes looked from her foot to her face.

"Are you all right?"

Sharon sighed, took the folder, opened it up and briefly perused the report. Looking at Sykes over the paperwork, she answered, "I'm fine. I had the misfortune of stepping in a rather large wad of gum this morning when I emerged from my car." She gave a distasteful toss of her head. "I was able to remove most of it but not all."

"Oh," said Skyes, "what a nuisance. Put your shoe in a plastic bag and leave it in the freezer for an hour or two. It'll allow you to remove the rest of the gum much more easily." Sykes smiled helpfully.

"Mmmm," answered Sharon absently. "Thank you for the tip." She fingered the Bazooka wrapper that she had retrieved earlier from between her tire wheel and the parking marker.

"No problem." Sykes began to walk away.

"Lieutenant," Sharon stopped her. "I wonder if you might do something for me." Sharon's expression turned suddenly methodical and focused.

"Of course."

"Casually ask Lieutenant Provenza if he has any gum. Don't tell him that it's for me. And if he does, bring it to me. Would you?"

Amy Sykes suppressed a laugh. "Of course, Captain."

"Thank you," Sharon replied in her coolly modulated voice.

* * *

Sharon was sitting on the edge of her desk leafing through a manual at the end of the day when Flynn poked his head into her office. It was the first time he'd seen her since the evening at his house in the rain when she had confided in him. Her plum colored suit was stunning. The color offset the red of her hair beautifully, accenting the hints of gold. Flynn did notice one oddity though: She was only wearing one shoe.

"Hey," he smiled. "Pick you up at 6:30 for Brenda's shindig?" Sharon looked up to see two eager brown eyes looking at her warmly. She'd missed him.

"That would be great." Sharon returned his smile and it reached her eyes.

Andy looked pointedly at her bare foot, allowing his eyes to take the scenic route, lingering appreciatively on her legs on the way down. "New look?" His voice was a teasing drawl.

"My shoe is in the freezer," she answered tersely—as if that was perfectly logical and explained everything.

Flynn chuckled. "Of course." She seemed to be in better spirits than she'd been the other night. They gazed at one another for a long moment but it wasn't awkward this time, even if the temperature in the room seemed to go up.

Sharon hopped off her desk with a flourish and grabbed her purse. "I'll walk out with you." She opened her desk drawer and pulled out two small Ziploc bags. "I just have to pick up my shoe."

"From the freezer," grinned Andy, pulling out his trademark toothpick.

"Precisely, Lieutenant."

Andy watched with amusement as Sharon triumphantly shook the two Ziploc bags at him, one in each hand. She had written a number on each one in black sharpie, in the same kind of fashion that they labeled important evidence for their cases. One bag contained a wrapped piece of Bazooka gum. The other bag contained what looked like bits of gum mixed with gravel. Andy gave Sharon a quizzical look. "I'll explain on the way out," she said.

"This I have to hear, Cinderella." Sharon gave his arm a playful swat. He allowed her to walk slightly ahead of him and couldn't help observing that, even traipsing about in only one heel, the woman still managed to be dignified…and quite irresistible.

* * *

Sharon outlined the crease in her eye with gray liner while cradling her cell phone against her ear. Her dress was a deep shade of raspberry and she had decided that smoky eyes would be a nice complement to the vibrant color of her dress.

"Sunday around noon," she repeated and nodded her head, although Rusty couldn't see her. "I'm looking forward to seeing you. Of course I'll tell Brenda that you send your best. Drive carefully, honey. Bye."

Checking the clock, she rushed into her bedroom to slip on her dress. Sharon's dress fell just above the knee, sleeveless with a V neckline. She wore a simple gold pendant with a solitaire garnet and small matching dangle earrings. She had a gauzy wrap to wear around her shoulders, gold colored but not metallic and her shoes matched the shade of her dress perfectly. They were studded with tiny sequins along the edging and she was pleasantly surprised that they were more comfortable than they looked.

Andy arrived at 6:30 on the dot. He was getting out of the car to go get Sharon when he saw her walking toward him. He was handsome—very handsome—in his black pants, white shirt, and jacket, minus the tie that he always wore to the station.

"Aren't you a walking felony?" he teased, opening the car door for her.

She laughed. "I hope that's a good thing."

"A dangerous thing. You look beautiful." He beamed at her. "Hope I'm not crossing the line."

Sharon paused. "Maybe we need to draw a new one." Her tone was light but her eyes were serious. "You look great, too, Lieutenant."

He pulled out a toothpick, almost shyly, pleased by her compliment. Sliding into the driver's seat and closing his own door, he asked her, "How are you doing with the Bazooka case?" Andy's keys jingled as he started the car.

"Very well. I just need one more piece of evidence."

"And that is?"

Her smile was mysterious. "You'll have to see."

He looked at her profile through his peripheral vision, the car unmoving. He observed the way the soft wisps of her hair framed her face, her expression playful. But underneath it he could still see a trace of sadness, something impossible to define-but present.

"Sharon, how are you _really_?"

It was her turn to look at Andy. The concern in his face was so honest, so earnest. There was a time when she would have looked away, guarding her innermost feelings with a protective wall. She forced herself to gaze back at him, her eyes soft, and allowed him to really see her—cracks and all. She leaned over, and with a spontaneity that would later surprise her, kissed his right cheek. The simplicity and sincerity of the gesture hovered in the air between them and neither of them spoke. Several heartbeats passed in the space of the shared moment.

"Not the best," she answered truthfully, "but better than the other night—thanks to you. Now it's just a waiting game." She sighed. "But for tonight, I'm putting it aside. You're here. I'm here. And there's a party to go to." She glanced at the clock in the car. "Which we're going to be late for if we don't get going," she teased.

They drove to Brenda's, the two of them chattering easily and effortlessly. Sharon was especially enjoying the ride because it afforded her the opportunity to quietly study Andy while he focused on the road. She couldn't stop thinking about the fact that her simple kiss had felt completely natural. Her attraction to Andy Flynn had been ignited a long time ago, when they worked together in Major Crimes and she couldn't admit it-even to herself. That attraction had blossomed into friendship and fondness and the more she knew him, the more she cared about him.

Brenda's street was lined with cars and Andy drove slowly, looking for a place to park. He zeroed in on a small space and began to back up.

"I don't think you're going to fit there," Sharon observed.

Andy flashed her a cheeky smile that made her heart flutter like a teenager on a first date. "You," he chided through his toothpick, "need to have more faith in me. I am a master at parallel parking. Watch and learn." Sharon shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"It's all about angle and position," continued Andy suggestively. He lined up the car and maneuvered into the space with faultless precision.

"Lucky," Sharon scoffed.

"Not yet; but if you ever want help with your parallel parking..." Andy got out of the car, came around to her side and opened the door for her, "just ask."

Sharon returned his light flirtation with a mock glower and only barely suppressed a laugh which, of course, would have ruined the effect. Her fingertips grazed the arm of his jacket as they walked together to Brenda's house and they were aware of nothing else-but one another.


	6. Chapter 6

"I still can't believe Lieutenant Flynn transferred departments," Brenda drawled with furrowed brow as she leaned closer to Provenza so that he could hear her better amidst the party chatter. The party was in full swing, mostly friends and co-workers of Brenda and Fritz and a few family members. They'd been hosting this Christmas party for the past couple of years and the guest list seemed to increase each time. Brenda enjoyed seeing everyone relax and have a good time; she always thought of how much her momma would have enjoyed the event. She honored her memory by pulling out all the stops with good, old fashioned Southern hospitality.

"It wasn't because of _that woman_ , is it?" Brenda continued a little bit fiercely. Brenda's relationship with Sharon Raydor had begun as an antagonistic rivalry, slowly developed into a tenuous tolerance, and finally blossomed into mutual respect. The two women regarded one another amicably these days and had for quite some time, but Brenda was still protective of "her own" and she still considered Lieutenant Flynn one of hers.

"Oh, it was definitely because of Captain Raydor," Provenza assured Brenda, enjoying the suspense that he was creating by withholding key information. He allowed her to consider this for a few moments as Brenda glared at Sharon, who happened to be chatting with Brenda's husband across the room and who was completely oblivious to the fact that she was the current topic of discussion.

"Well," huffed Brenda Leigh Johnson with a decisive shrug of her shoulders, "I'm going to march myself right over there and give her a piece of my mind." She started to get up but Provenza gently grabbed her arm.

"Whoa, hold it there sheriff," he advised, "that won't be necessary. Raydor hasn't done anything to Flynn."

"But you said—"

"I said that Flynn transferred because of Raydor; I never said that she was making life miserable for him." He thought about this for a moment and chuckled. "Well, she probably i _s_ but not for the reasons you're thinking."

"What the hell are you gettin' at?"

"Just look."

Fritz had moved on to mingle with other guests and Sharon had gotten up to say hello to Tao and Sanchez. Flynn was nearby and followed her. As Sharon moved, her wrap slipped off of one shoulder. One fluttering half of the light fabric trailed lightly on the floor behind her. Without a word, Flynn bent down, picked up the wayward garment, and righted it. When Sharon felt his hand brush her shoulder, she turned toward him, whispering a soft "thank you." Andy's fond gaze was met with an equally affectionate expression from Sharon as the pair exchanged a look of shared yearning.

"Sweet Lord," uttered Brenda, her eyes wide. "You're all puttin' me on," she accused.

"I assure you. I am not," promised Provenza, smirking.

"How long have they been….?"

"Together? Well, they aren't, exactly. Flynn never told her why he was leaving. He won't even admit it to me but it's obvious to anybody with a pair of eyes."

"It's actually rather sweet," said Brenda with a little smile.

"Oh, yeah, it's adorable," groaned Provenza sarcastically.

* * *

"So you took Provenza's straw?" laughed Andy as, hours later, he pulled into a parking space at Sharon's apartment.

"Well, I couldn't exactly get a cheek swab now could I?"

"And what exactly are you going to do with all of this 'evidence'?"

"I haven't decided yet," pondered Sharon. "But I really liked those shoes," she lamented.

"I'm glad I'm not Provenza."

Sharon laughed. "Oh, I probably won't do anything _too_ horrible to him.

Andy parked the car and silently thanked Brenda Leigh Johnson for giving Sharon a particularly large poinsettia plant to take home. Although that had not been Brenda's intention, it afforded him a plausible excuse to walk her inside. Glancing at Sharon in the darkness of the car, he decided that he was definitely not ready to part with her.

"Let me carry that in for you," Andy told her, referring to the plant.

"Oh, I can manage fine."

But Andy was already out of the car and striding to Sharon's side to retrieve the plant from her lap. As they approached the door to her apartment, one of Sharon's neighbors came over to her.

"I just wanted to let you know that we had a theft earlier. Someone got in through Steve Morrison's slider. They took small stuff—things that they could put in their pocket. Gold jewelry mostly. I just thought that you should be aware."

Sharon nodded. "Yes. Thank you for the heads up, Mrs. Lewis."

Andy promptly handed the plant to Sharon. "You're staying out here and I'm checking out your apartment. Keys," he demanded. He extended his palm.

Sharon dug her keys out of her purse and proceeded to open her own door, balancing the poinsettia against her body. "I am perfectly capable of opening the door to my own apartment and making sure that everything is secure," she informed Andy, peering at him from above her glasses with a withering stare that would have made a lesser man flinch.

Turning on the lights, Sharon put the plant down on her kitchen counter. Andy was already making a rapid sweep of the premises. She could hear him opening and closing closet doors, windows, and puttering around on her patio. When Andy returned, Sharon was leaning against the threshold between her living room and dining area, arms crossed resolutely as she scrutinized Andy.

"Find anything noteworthy, Lieutenant?" she asked him flippantly.

"You should keep your outside light on in the back when you go out. It's a deterrent. But the bulb is out," he informed her crossly. "I don't like that latch on your slider and your bathroom window doesn't lock."

"Yes, well, considering the fact that a small child couldn't fit through that window, I'm not terribly concerned," she huffed.

"This is no time to be cavalier, Sharon," he countered irritably. "I'm a cop and you're my _-_ —captain." He realized that he was making absolutely no sense whatsoever. "Where are your light bulbs," he bellowed - far more harshly than he intended.

Sharon opened up a closet and pulled out an outside light bulb and a stepladder. She handed them both to Andy. She also grabbed a flashlight and, without a word, followed him outside, shining the light so that he could see well enough to replace the bulb.

"You should have maintenance replace that latch. It locks but it doesn't always catch." Andy promptly closed her slider and double checked to make sure that the lock was secure. They stood across from one another just a couple of feet apart. "You should leave your light on out there tonight," he added, his tone softer.

Sharon merely looked at him.

Andy regarded Sharon with a contrite expression that she found both boyish and endearing. "Sorry if I was a little….overzealous," he murmured.

"Overzealous? Is that what that was?"

He searched her face trying to read whether or not she was truly angry with him. _Damn her!_ The woman could still be inscrutable if she really wanted to be and her countenance was unreadable. She wore the impossibly cool expression that had earned her the reputation of having ice water in her veins. She was suddenly much closer to him but he wasn't sure if he had moved forward or she had stepped closer. He saw it then, the tiniest beginning of a smile on her lips and in her eyes. Her mouth was a mere few inches from his. If he just moved his head down a little bit, he would be able to kiss her. Afraid that if he didn't do it right now, he'd completely lose his nerve, Andy slid his arms around her waist and lowered his mouth to hers. Her mouth was soft and warm and pliant against his. He had imagined kissing her a countless number of times but the fantasy didn't live up to the reality of the living, breathing and utterly responsive woman in his arms.

Sharon closed her eyes and leaned into him. Kissing Andy Flynn was like a homecoming, so completely natural that, despite its newness, it felt as if they had been doing this for an eternity and were only just rediscovering how right it was. His lips felt so good against hers. The kiss started out soft and slowly heated up into a crescendo that left them both breathless and wanting more.

"I should have done that a long time ago," Andy murmured against her mouth. He held her against his body, afraid that if he let go, the moment itself might disintegrate, that he would become Lieutenant Flynn again and she would turn back into Captain Raydor, that they'd lapse back into arguing about the security of her place or whatever the hell it was that they'd been discussing.

It took Sharon a few seconds to find her voice. When she did, it was unsteady. "Yes," she finally managed and realized how completely inarticulate he had rendered her. Knowing that conversation, at this point, was a lost cause, Sharon leaned up and kissed Andy this time, her hands sliding up along his shoulders to twine around his neck. This second kiss was bolder than the first but did little to quell the aching need that he inspired in her. She parted her lips and sucked gently on his bottom lip, tilting her head slightly, gasping when she felt is tongue dart against her lips to taste her. She parted her lips for him in offering and he made a sound that was half-moan, half-sigh. The contact was almost too much - too good. He allowed his mouth to trail downward and nuzzled her neck, moving his hands hungrily along the arches of her rib cage. Her dress suddenly seemed so thin; he could feel the heat radiating off of her body and smell the familiar freshness of her perfume. His brain was suddenly flooded with images of all of the things he would like to do to her. The blood and heat that had rushed to his face when they had begun this little encounter was rapidly making its way to other parts of his body. He put a little distance between them but took both of her hands in his.

"Andy?"

"Trying to be a gentleman," he explained. He released one of her hands and moved her soft, red-gold hair aside with a brush of his fingertips and planted a single kiss behind her left ear. His breath was warm against her skin as his lips brushed against her. She felt as if her entire body were dissolving into liquid.

Sharon closed her eyes for a moment when Andy's hands slipped around her waist, enjoying the sensation of finally feeling his hands on her. "When you left Major Crimes, I worried that maybe it was something that I'd done to push you away. We were getting along well by then, of course, but-"

"It wasn't anything you did, Sharon. Sometimes I'd look at you and I was sure that everyone must know how I felt about you. I couldn't hide it anymore and I didn't want to."

Sharon swallowed. "I wanted to be closer to you, Andy. Sometimes it was so difficult to keep my distance, to be professional..." She placed her palm over his heart, splaying her fingertips outward. She stepped forward. "I wanted to - "

Very slowly, Andy kissed behind her right ear and trailed his mouth down along her neck, stopping at the delicate groove of her collarbone. He loved the way she relaxed against him and tipped her head back to allow him better access to her neck and throat. She pressed her body up against him with a tiny moan that seemed to go right to his groin and he knew that disguising his arousal was a lost cause.

"Sharon, I want you so badly...I can barely see straight," Andy admitted. "But I know you've been going through a lot lately and the last thing I want to do is rush you. I've screwed up a lot in my life. I don't want to mess this up, too."

"Then let's do it right. I'd like you to stay." She hesitated. "It's been a long time since I've...I mean a really long time." She shook her head. "Really - you don't want to know how long. And maybe I'm a little apprehensive about _that_ but I'm not uncertain about you or - us. I'm sure it's like riding a bike, right? You don't ever really forget." She said all of this in one nervous breath. "I'm babbling, aren't I?"

"Maybe a little," he told her with a slow smile, "But it's ridiculously sexy babbling."

Andy pulled her tighter against his body with a desperate groan and delighted in the throaty sound she made at the contact. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. That was everything that he needed to know. His lips found hers again and the kisses just seemed to get better and better each time their mouths met. Andy resisted the urge to simply pull her down onto the sofa and make love to her right there.

"Where's the bedroom?" he asked in between a series of repeated kisses - before he went ahead and did just that.

"Down the hall," said Sharon. "It's - " But Andy didn't give her a chance to finish. He pulled her toward him while he began moving his legs in that direction. Movement was a lot more difficult than he had anticipated with her pressing up against him - not that he was complaining. They only made it a couple of steps before he had her backed up against the wall of the hallway while his hands glided along her thighs as he kissed her. She was complicating matters by untucking his shirt from his pants and sliding the palms of her hands against his bare abdomen. It only magnified his already potent desire to feel her skin against his body. He wanted to feel her everywhere. By the time they stumbled into her bedroom, Sharon had somehow managed to completely unbutton his shirt while she was still - regrettably - fully clothed. That would have to be remedied - immediately.

They were both breathing heavily when Andy spun her around and unzipped her dress, and after that layers of clothing began flying haphazardly in every direction.

 _Slow. Slow. Slow._ It was his mantra as he kissed along the silky curves of her body. He wanted this to be perfect for her. He enjoyed the process of discovery, from the heady scent of her wrist against his lips where her perfume was the most concentrated to the little crinkle she got on her forehead, just above her nose, when he did something that she particularly liked. He vigilantly tucked the knowledge away for future reference.

He entered her only after his hands and lips and tongue had thoroughly explored the entire landscape of her body. He stopped all movement once he was inside her to allow her to adjust to him and to give himself a moment to make sure this didn't end too soon. He was only human, after all.

Their lovemaking was slow and languid and sweet. Sharon arched her back and pressed her hips to meet each thrust, crying out his name when she climaxed. He followed soon after, lips pressed against the elegant curve of her neck. Catching their breath, they snuggled up together, body against body, under the covers. Sharon leaned over him and kissed from the center of his chest all the way up to his mouth before finally settling and resting her head against his chest.

"I never knew," Sharon said softly, so softly that he almost didn't hear her.

"Hmmmm?" Andy swept a wave of auburn hair from her face.

She sighed contentedly. "I've never been with anyone but my soon-to-be ex-husband," she explained. She shook her head, looking up at the ceiling. "And it definitely wasn't like that." She was silent for a moment. "Sometimes I used to plan my grocery list," she added thoughtfully.

Andy laughed but he also felt a stabbing sadness for her - trapped in a loveless marriage for all those years. She deserved better. "I hope that wasn't the case tonight." He kissed the top of her head. "If it was, then uh - I wasn't doing my job."

She laughed, too, and the sound was rich and warm and bubbly. "No, I assure you; I did not plan my grocery list. I went over my calendar for next week," she clarified with a mischievous twinkle in her green eyes and a deadpan expression as she looked up at him, "but I did not think about the supermarket. Not once."

"You are a very wicked woman. Cruel even."

"Andy, I'm sorry you left Major Crimes for my sake," Sharon said suddenly, changing the topic of conversation as she propped her chin against his shoulder and completely met his eyes.

He interlaced his fingers through hers. "Are you always this random after sex?" he teased. "I'm not sorry, sweetheart. Aside from the fact that you are completely worth it, I'm going to retire in a few years anyway. And I've seen enough murder and mayhem to last a couple of lifetimes. It was time. Truly."

They talked for hours - until their words were so slow and their senses so dulled that sleep was inevitable.


	7. Chapter 7

Somewhere in the middle of the night Sharon had rolled over onto her side of the queen sized bed. Yes, even after years of sleeping alone, she still had a preferred side. Andy woke up and grumbled incoherently when he discovered that his arms were empty and pulled her back into them. And that's how he woke up, holding Sharon around her waist, lips nearly resting on the back of her neck. It would have been a wonderful way to wake up if it weren't for the obnoxious ring of someone's cell phone. His cell phone, he suddenly realized with a groan. Releasing Sharon reluctantly, he stumbled out of bed and searched for his phone. He remembered that it was in the pocket of his pants but where the hell were they?

After emitting a string of obscenities and nearly tripping over his own feet, Andy finally found his pants. (They were several feet away from the bed lying in a rumpled pile on the floor—right next to Sharon's silk and lace cream colored bra.) With a grunt, he hit the _Accept_ button on his phone and brought it to his ear. He didn't even bother to check caller ID. His first priority was to stop the annoying ringing.

"Flynn," he rasped irritably.

"Where the hell _are_ you? I've been waiting for you for a half hour. Were you sleeping?"

Andy rubbed his bleary eyes and looked over at Sharon who was slowly beginning to sit up and who he knew also happened to be completely naked under those sheets. It was such a pleasing thought that he nearly had to pinch himself. _Don't move_. He mouthed this to her as he covered the mouthpiece of the phone before bringing his attention back to a very irate Louie Provenza.

"Yeah. I was sleeping. Sorry. I forgot that we were supposed to meet at the shooting range." Sharon and he exchanged a conspiratory smile. Andy looked her up and down appreciatively and decided that no woman had ever looked more beautiful in a sheet. The way that she was smiling at him was distracting to say the least and he forgot for a moment that he was even on the phone.

"How did you forget? I reminded you before you and Sharon left last night." There was a pause. "Oh my God. _You're_ _with_ _her_."

At this point, Flynn wasn't really listening anymore anyway. Or if he was, it was with a peripheral ear. "Uh...Nah. Just overslept." Andy walked over to the bed and sat down next to Sharon. She stroked his back and kissed his shoulder.

"Fine then. If you merely overslept, throw on some clothes and get over here. You're not even ten minutes away," Provenza told him.

"Well, no," Flynn prevaricated, closing his eyes when Sharon's lips made contact with his skin. "I'd need to shower and get ready. I'm still getting up." _Bad choice of words._ Did the indomitable Sharon Raydor just giggle into his shoulder? He'd never heard her giggle before. Not a laugh; that was definitely a giggle. "I've already held you up long enough," apologized Flynn, "You go on ahead. We'll uh...reschedule."

"You're a bad liar, Flynn. I know exactly where you are and what you've been—" Andy ended the call, cutting Provenza off mid-sentence. He placed the phone on Sharon's bedside table and turned to her.

"Wrong number," he informed her with a cheeky grin.

"Uh huh," said Sharon, eyes laughing. She leaned over and greeted him with an extremely enthusiastic kiss.

"Hi," she said softly, wrapping her arms around him. She hugged him as if it were for the first time and Andy wondered yet again at this woman's effortless ability to wrap herself right around his heart. The effect that she had on him was potent.

"Hi yourself," he smiled, returning her embrace with equal fervor.

Andy's salt and pepper hair was mussed. His face was lined with stubble and he had a lazy-morning tousled look that was making Sharon want to pull him right back into bed. She decided right then and there that she definitely liked seeing him this way. Glancing at her bedside clock, Sharon read the time: 10:04. Still relatively early.

"Did I fail to mention last night just how good you look without your clothes on?" Sharon queried with a flirtatious smile.

"You didn't," Andy informed her with a forlorn sigh. He tugged the sheet down that was covering her body, stopping just at her waist. "Care to convince me?" he challenged, kissing a very lovely breast. Sharon laid back down on the bed and pulled a very willing Andy on top of her for another searing kiss. When she pressed her hips upward against him, the pair moaned in unison. She slid the palms of her hands up and down his chest, slowly lowering her touch each time. Her hands were just beginning to dip below his abdomen when the shrill buzz of her apartment doorbell chimed.

"Oh, God no," mourned Andy Flynn-almost painfully.

"Maybe they'll go away," whispered Sharon hopefully, her breathing irregular.

Neither moved. They waited. The doorbell buzzed again and this time it was followed by loud knocking.

Andy felt Sharon begin to get up and he moved aside for her, inwardly cursing whoever it was at the door. She pulled an ivory silk robe from her closet and hastily put it on, tied the sash, and stomped to her door, red hair streaming behind her as she moved briskly to confront the intruder. She was every bit as annoyed as Andy and she would get rid of whomever it was that had dared to interrupt them-sooner rather than later.

Sharon didn't bother to ask who it was; the sheer intensity of her annoyance took precedence over her usual caution. Her face was a mask of disapproval and irritation as she flung the door open in one swift motion. The expression intensified when she saw just exactly who it was. Richard stood on her doorstep, cell phone in hand.

"Took you long enough to get to the door," he said smugly. "I was just about to call you."

"You might have done that before barging over here unannounced," she replied coldly. "What do you want, Richard?"

"Oh, I don't know...maybe an ounce of regard from the woman who still happens to be my wife."

Sharon could smell the liquor on his breath. "You shouldn't be here. I thought you were in San Diego."

"No, Sharon, I'm not in San Diego. With the kids you never see and the life that you decided to abandon for shiny L.A. So easy to forget us."

Sharon was not going to be baited. "Richard, it's over. It has been over for a long time." Her voice was matter-of-fact. "What hotel are you staying at? I'll call you a cab. You shouldn't be driving in this condition." Sharon had never seen him this agitated. His eyes were dilated and his temples lined with perspiration. "Did you have anything besides the booze?" she asked.

"Are you judging me?" His voice rose in volume.

"I'm not judging you; I am, however, concerned for your safety and for the safety of anyone else that you might be on the road with."

Richard was about to say something when he noticed the black suit jacket hanging over one of Sharon's dining room chairs.

"Not alone, Sharon?"

"As it happens, no, I am not alone," she snapped.

"And I always thought that you were such a frigid bitch. Apparently I was wrong. Where is he?"

"Right here, asshole." Andy stepped into the room. "Oh, and you might want to know that the LAPD are on their way."

"I didn't do anything," Richard snarled.

"Oh, I'd say that driving under the influence and harassing your ex-wife certainly qualify for 'something'."

"You set me up, Sharon!" Richard's fist made contact with Sharon's face. It was so unexpected and happened so quickly that she didn't have a moment to deflect the blow. He hit her with enough force that she staggered back against the dining room table. While she recovered her balance, Andy had the man on his knees and in a hold with his hands behind his back within seconds.

"Oh, my God, Sharon...Sharon, I'm so sorry," Richard wailed. He didn't struggle.

"Are you all right?" Andy asked Sharon.

"I'm fine." Her cheek and eye were already beginning to swell. The sound of sirens screeched in the background, coming closer. A minute later two officers came in and introduced themselves as Lieutenant Vega and Lieutenant Hale.

"Who called this in?" asked Lieutenant Vega as he went over to Richard Raydor.

"I did," said Flynn. "Andrew Flynn. Obviously off duty but I'm with the LAPD." The officers patted Raydor down. They didn't find any weapons but they did find a small bag of cocaine in his pants pocket.

"I hit my wife," Richard said disbelievingly. Officer Hale took Raydor out to a patrol car.

"Ma'am can I have your name?" asked Vega.

"Sharon Raydor. Also with the LAPD. The other man is Richard Raydor, my husband. We're in the middle of a divorce. We've been separated. He came here unexpectedly. He was very irrational and angry. I've never seen him like that before. He struck me."

"Has he ever hit you before?"

"No. God, no. Never. He's not violent."

"Did you know he had a cocaine habit?"

"No. He was a drinker but drugs?" No."

Andy found a cold pack in Sharon's freezer, wrapped it in paper towel, and brought it over to her. "You should get that looked at, Sharon," he said with concern.

Sharon put the ice pack on her face and flinched. "I'm fine. No...I don't want to go to the ER."

"Will you be pressing charges, ma'am?" asked Vega.

Sharon was very quiet. Finally, she spoke. "Yes. Let me get dressed and I'll come down to the station and file a report."

* * *

Andy accompanied Sharon to the station and brought her back to her apartment when she had finished giving her statement. The worse her face looked, the angrier he felt. Richard Raydor was a weasel and he wanted to wring his neck. Sharon was withdrawn and quiet. Andy got the feeling that she wanted him to go and it was wreaking havoc on him because all he wanted to do was stay. She went into the bedroom to lie down for a bit and he played mindless games on his phone-any distraction would do. He looked up when he saw her emerge from the bedroom about an hour later. She walked over and sat down next to him. He put an arm around her and she responded by leaning in closer.

"I'm afraid I'm not very good at all this," she began softly. "I've been alone a long time. And even when I was married, more often than not, I might as well have been. This is an awful lot for you to contend with. So much drama. You've probably gotten more than you bargained for. All of this...so early in our relationship. You don't have to, you know...I will completely understand if you want to-"

"If I want to what, Sharon?"

"You know-call it a day, metaphorically speaking. Cut your losses. You don't have to take all of this on, Andy."

"All right, Sharon. I'm going to make this very simple and very clear. I'm crazy about you. So you have some family stuff going on right now. So what? It doesn't change the way I feel about you. I care about you. A whole lot. What I want is to be with you, good times or bad, and hopefully move along toward something permanent. I'm in this for the long haul. But you have to trust me." Andy stroked the palm of her hand with his thumb. "I'm not going anywhere. Unless you want me to."

She kissed his cheek. "No. It isn't. I just want you."

"The feeling is very mutual."

"I feel like I'm leaning on you an awfully lot lately," she sighed.

"In a healthy and supportive way, Sharon. Someday my life will be a mess and I'll lean on you," he assured her brightly.

"Oh, that's reassuring. You sound like a shrink," she teased.

"Too many AA meetings."

"Is my face a mess?"

He put his hand under her chin and cupped her face on the side that wasn't injured. "No." But he shook his head yes.

Sharon laughed. "Don't make me do that. It hurts."

She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes.

"Rusty's coming home tomorrow and I have to call my children..."

"We'll take care of it, Sharon. All of it. Don't worry."


	8. Chapter 8

It was a 40 minute drive from the UCLA satellite campus that Rusty attended to Sharon's apartment. She'd helped him get a small car, a 2006 Toyota Corolla. Nothing fancy—his first car. He washed it himself, every two weeks, inside and out. It might as well be a Lexus for the amount of pride he took in it. Freshman usually couldn't keep cars on campus but Sharon had pulled some strings for him so that he could get back and forth to class and work, data entry at a local insurance company. Rusty had insisted on a job and he saved as much as he could, determined that someday, somehow he'd pay Sharon back.

At the apartment, a frustrated Sharon dumped six jars of foundation, two vials of "special" concealer, and three cases of powder into the trash. Her eye was almost completely swollen shut and her cheek was a swollen mixture of red and purple. Why, of all days, did Rusty have to be coming home today? Make-up clearly wasn't going to cut it. She put her glasses back on with shaking hands and hoped that they mitigated the appearance of her injury. Doubtful.

She had made lunch for them. She had planned on taking Rusty out to dinner but she didn't want to be seen out in public with her face looking the way it did. He loved her cranberry-walnut chicken salad so she made that, a cucumber salad, and brownies. They could order in some Indian food later; Rusty was one of the few people who shared her love of Indian food and it was a mutual ritual. She was just putting the cucumber salad in the fridge when her cell phone rang.

It was a number that she didn't recognize. "Raydor," she said softly.

"Mrs. Raydor, this is Estelle Devin from the Sunshine View treatment facility in San Diego. We're a drug rehab center. I'm a rehab counselor calling on behalf of your husband."

"Go ahead."

"Mr. Raydor checked in early this morning for cocaine and alcohol addiction. I understand there was an incident yesterday."

"Yes, Ms. Devin, there was an incident yesterday that is currently under investigation and that I am not at liberty to discuss with a third party."

"I understand, Mrs. Raydor, and I certainly don't want to make you uncomfortable. Your husband apologizes for his actions yesterday. The cocaine, alcohol, and prescription drug combination that he had taken created quite a cocktail and very likely contributed to his paranoia and aggressive behavior. He wanted to relay to you how very sorry he is for his behavior."

Sharon said nothing.

"He would like you to inform your children that he is in rehab; if you would prefer not to do this, then we will contact them on his behalf."

Sharon spoke very clearly and very slowly. "I will inform my children that their father is in rehab. I will take whatever contact information that you wish to give me to relay to them. Afterwards, I do not wish to receive any further communication either from my husband—who will very shortly be my ex-husband—or from your facility. I am glad to hear that Mr. Raydor is making a step toward recovery and I wish him the utmost success. I, however, do not wish to be included in the process. That is the beauty of divorce. Do I make myself clear, Ms. Devin?"

"Crystal clear, ma'am," answered the affronted counselor.

"Good." Sharon took down phone numbers, location, and contact information for the facility and promptly ended the call.

Sharon was setting the table when she heard Rusty's keys jingle in the door. She tucked a few strands of red hair behind her ear and waited.

"Hey, Sharon!" he said brightly, wiping his feet on her welcome mat, dropping his duffle bag on the floor and hurrying over to her. He stopped.

"Sharon—what _happened_ to you?" The jaunty walk was gone. The smile was replaced by a look of horror and concern.

Sharon put up her hands and gave them a light wave. "I'm fine. It looks worse than it is. I had a little altercation yesterday but everything is taken care of. It's day number two so you're seeing the worst of it but really—it's nothing." She reached out to hug him but he stepped back, still looking at her intently.

"Who hit you?" he asked angrily.

She hesitated. "A suspect. A very agitated suspect." She hadn't planned to lie. She had planned to explain _: My husband hit me_. But for some inexplicable reason she suddenly felt terribly ashamed about the whole thing and she wanted to put as much distance between herself and the event as possible. "I'm sorry, Rusty, I'm just not—" Her eyes shone with tears that she wouldn't shed. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure, Sharon," he replied uncertainly. It was so rare to see Sharon anything but completely collected.

"Come over here!" she commanded with a throaty laugh. She moved to hug him and he hugged her back, gently—afraid to squeeze too tight. "I won't break," she promised. He gave her a real hug then. He had grown a couple of inches in the past year and a half and now towered quite a bit over her 5'6 frame.

"I missed you," he told her, still holding onto her.

"I missed you, too, honey. I hope you're hungry. I made lunch for us. I promise—it's edible. I want to hear all about school, friends, job, good, bad, everything in between…." She walked into the kitchen as she spoke and began taking dishes out of the fridge. Rusty followed her and helped, carefully placing things on the table.

After a leisurely lunch, Rusty got up and insisted Sharon sit while he cleaned up the dishes. A few minutes later they sat together in the cozy little room that Sharon used as a TV room.

"Rusty, I need to chat with you about Christmas. I'm going to San Diego tomorrow afternoon to spend Christmas Eve at my sister Samantha's. Sam does a big Christmas bash every year. You'll like her and she's going to love you. My son Ryan will be coming with his wife and you'll see my daughter Kate and her boyfriend. We'll stay overnight at Sam's and come back here in the early evening. The squad is eager to see you. I think Lieutenant Flynn is going to have us over for dessert. I'd love you to come with me to San Diego. There's no pressure. The squad is already fighting over you so if you don't want to join me, you have invitations from Provenza, Sanchez, Flynn, and Tao."

"I'd like to come with you, Sharon….thanks."

Sharon tousled his hair affectionately.

"Can I drive?" he asked, a gleam in his eye.

"Yes. But in that case, we're taking the Corolla."

"Awww, come on Sharon," Rusty teased, "you don't trust me to drive your Audi?"

"Honey, I wouldn't let God himself drive my Audi."

They both laughed.

"Rusty, I was having a less than stellar moment earlier. I didn't tell you the truth about my face."

"I know that, Sharon," he told her quietly.

Sharon tilted her head to the side. "How did you know?"

Rusty shrugged. "I used to lie all the time about my mother's boyfriend hitting me. I guess I just recognized that kind of lie when I saw it."

"I just couldn't face it right then. I'm sorry."

"S'okay Sharon. You want to talk about it now?"

"My husband came over yesterday. He was drinking. He was angry at me for something. And he hit me. Now, I want you to understand that he has never, ever hit me before. Richard is a lot of things but he's never been violent. I'm not excusing his behavior. It was completely wrong. I just want to give you some perspective. I am in the middle of divorce proceedings and this will not happen again. He's checked into a rehab center so hopefully he'll get some help." Sharon closed her weary eyes and let out a long sigh.

"You bet it won't. I'll kick his sorry ass from here to the east coast if he ever touches you again."

"You and a long line of people, kiddo, with me at the forefront," she smiled. "But seriously…." She wagged a finger at him and her voice deepened. "Answering violence with violence is never, ever the answer. Self-defense, yes. Violence for revenge or for violence sake. Absolutely not. Understand?"

"Yes, yes, I get it."

"Promise me," Sharon ordered. Rusty rolled his eyes. "No eye rolling, Mister."

Rusty raised his right hand. "I swear to tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God….blah blah blah. I promise."

"Thank you."

"So…what's your sister like?"

"We're twins—"

"I didn't know you had a twin!"

"I do. Probably why I had twins…they tend to run in families."

"Are you identical?" Rusty asked with interest.

"Yup."

"That's so cool. So you could totally switch places and all that."

Sharon laughed. "Oh, you'll be able to tell us apart. From a mile away. Samantha and I are very different."

"What does she do?"

"What doesn't she do? She travels, she volunteers, she sky-dives. She joins bands. She's been married five times. Currently in between husbands. Brilliant with languages. And she dresses up to look like old movie actresses. I think she's currently in a Marilyn phase."

Rusty laughed. "She sounds pretty interesting."

"She is." Sharon smiled. "She is. Sam's pretty great."

"Are you going to tell your kids what really happened—you know—with your husband?"

Sharon looked up at the ceiling and expelled a puff of air. "I don't know. My suspect story wasn't too convincing?"

"It's nice that you want to protect them and all but I think you should be honest with them."

"I don't want to make them hate their father."

"You're not, Sharon. How old are your kids?"

"They'll be 31 next year."

"Maybe you should let them form their own opinion, on their terms. With the right information."

"Are you taking psychology 101?" Sharon teased.

"Are you being evasive?"

Sharon playfully tossed a pillow at him. "You're too smart for your own good, Mr. Beck."

"I had a good teacher," he replied, catching the pillow with a flourish.

* * *

It was 11:34 and Sharon rolled over again for what seemed like the hundredth time. She kept thinking over the events of the weekend and wondering how she should handle everything tomorrow. She sat up in bed, grabbed her phone, and pressed the speed dial button for Samantha.

"Hello, little sister," drawled Samantha. She was 3 minutes older than Sharon.

"Hi, Sam. Did I wake you up?"

"No. I was wrapping presents. I got you something fabulous."

"You always do."

"All right, Shar. Out with it. What's the matter? Is Richard still dragging his feet on the divorce?"

"Yes...well, no. I think Tony's gotten that sorted out. It looks like it should be final around the New Year."

"That's a relief. You should have done it years ago, honey. I've never really understood why you stayed in the marriage. I know you'll tell me someday. Until you do, I'll just wait patiently and wonder."

"You're not patient."

"I am when it comes to you. Did something happen with that cop you're interested in? Quinn? Linn?"

"Flynn. Andy Flynn. He's been great. Beyond wonderful."

"Did Mr. Beyond Wonderful take you out on a date yet?"

Sharon cleared her throat. "He spent the night."

Samantha let out a high pitched squeal.

"I think I've sustained permanent hearing loss," complained Sharon.

"Well? I want details, you hussy." Samantha lowered her voice. "How was it?"

"I think I finally understand what all the fuss is about," replied Sharon.

Samantha laughed. "Oh, Sharon-you've finally gotten laid properly. I need to buy this man a drink. Why do you sound so...blah? I should be getting happy, euphoric vibes. I'm getting Pooh in a world-without-honey vibes."

"Richard stopped by unannounced the following morning. He was drunk and high on cocaine. Probably to try to talk me out of the divorce again or some nonsense. He saw Andy and he...overreacted."

"Sharon, you really should have gone to law school but I don't always speak euphemisms. In layman's terms, sweetie, what exactly do you mean by 'overreacted?'"

"I'm fine. I'm really fine so please don't have a conniption. He hit me."

"That lousy, no good fucking son-of-a-bitch. I'll kill him."

"Not worth it."

"No, he's not. But that doesn't make the notion any less appealing. Are you all right?"

"I told you-I'm fine. I'm a little nervous about tomorrow-facing the family. Richard checked into rehab and I have to explain that to the kids. My eye is three shades of purple. If anyone asks, it happened during an altercation with a suspect. I just don't want to have to explain to anyone outside the family. It's personal. I'll have to talk to Kate and Ryan privately. Should I even tell them?"

"Yes. It's all noble and moral and completely Sharon of you to want to safeguard your kids but it's a band-aid. Richard needs to face this, too. I had no idea he was this bad. But maybe having some consequences will benefit him. Not that he deserves it. I hope karma bites him in the ass and he comes back as the slug that he is. I hope you're pressing charges."

"Yes, yes. I made a statement. I might drop them if he stays in rehab-"

"Don't you dare, Sharon."

"All right-fine. Can we please not have this argument right now?" she said irritably.

"Don't drop those charges. Sharon, I mean it."

"I won't."

"You'd better not be placating me. You'd give me the same advice. As for tomorrow, we'll get through it. I have a make-up artist friend who's helped me with some of my celebrity look-alikes. I'm still on a Marilyn kick. If most of the swelling is down, he'll be able to conceal most of that bastard's handiwork." Samantha paused thoughtfully. "You know, if you want to invite Mr. Flynn along for moral support-or whatever other type of support he's inclined go give you-"

"Cute, Samantha. I am going to regret sharing, aren't I?"

"-then he's more than welcome," Sam finished sweetly.

"I don't think I'm ready to introduce Andy to the kids just yet-not on top of everything else. When I do that, I want it to be under better circumstances. But I appreciate the thought."

" _When_ you do that...you _really_ like him. I may have to make a New Year trek out to L.A. to meet the man. You feel a little better about tomorrow, Shar?"

"As good as I'm going to feel. Thanks, Sam."


	9. Chapter 9

On Christmas Eve, Sharon was scheduled to work for a few hours in the morning. She double timed it to her office and said a quick hello to Tao and Provenza who were the only ones in. She kept her sunglasses on and hoped that she could mostly avoid her co-workers. In her office, the first thing that she noticed was a large white box on her desk tied with red ribbon. Opening up the box and underneath a couple of layers of tissue paper were a pair of Manolo Blahnik black pointy toe pumps. There was a little card inside shaped like a white flag and one word was written on it: _Truce_.

With a hearty laugh, Sharon opened up her door and called Provenza in. "I see you got your Christmas gift," he said.

"Lieutenant Provenza," she said, "Thank you. While I appreciate the gesture, I can't accept a pair of $500.00 shoes. I've gotten all of the gum off. It's a wash. I do, however, think a truce is in order."

Provenza's eyes widened when she mentioned the figure for the shoes. "Are you sure you got both cards? Maybe you should have a closer look without those sunglasses."

"I have a migraine," lied Sharon. But she looked in the box and found another little card wedged in one corner. It read, _Manoco Blarnik BK PT $25.00_. She looked up at Provenza who was grinning.

"I whittled the lady down at the Big Flea to $15.00 Are you sure about that truce, Captain?"

"It's the holiday season. What the hell?" Sharon shrugged her shoulders at him. "Merry Christmas, Lieutenant," she said warmly.

"Merry Christmas, Captain."

* * *

Sharon was just packing up the last few items for the car with Rusty in preparation for their two hour drive to San Diego when her cell phone rang. It was Samantha.

"Hello, Samantha," said Sharon.

"Hey, darlin'. I just wanted you to remind Rusty to bring a bathing suit. Even if it's a little cool, you know the pool's heated."

"Already done. "

"Don't bring a dress. I have something for you to wear tonight."

"Samantha, you didn't have to—"

"Oh shut up. I have more money than God. I like to splurge." Husband Number 3 had left an already wealthy Samantha with a very sizeable inheritance. Unfortunately, he had been the love of her sister's life, passing just before his 39th birthday in a skiing accident. Samantha didn't marry for money—she didn't need to. Sharon's eccentric sister married so often because she loved the idea of being in love and she loved to plan weddings; neither were really the best reasons to tie the knot but Sam was Sam. Oddly enough, Samantha was friendly with all but one of her four exes. Last year she told Sharon that she wanted to get married just one more time because six is such a "nice round number." A maid of honor five times already, Sharon dearly hoped that her sister changed her mind.

"Sam, my closet is already bursting at the seams—not that I don't appreciate it."

"Then smile gracefully, say thank you, and accept it with the spirit of joy with which it is intended."

"All right—thank you," Sharon said between clenched teeth, "Can you hear the smile?"

"You're such a smart ass," Samantha said good naturedly. "Good, now that we've settled that, let me say hello to Rusty."

"All right," replied Sharon. "But don't corrupt him. "Rusty, my sister Samantha wants to say hello to you." He was plugging the GPS for their trip into the car charger. Sharon handed him the phone.

"Hello, Rusty!" Samantha sang into the phone. "I can't wait to meet you, honey. Can my sister hear me?"

Rusty looked a little uncomfortable. "Uh no…"

"Excellent. Now listen, this is important. I have a little mission for you. I need you to get Andy Flynn's phone number for me but you can't let Sharon know. She's quite fond of Mr. Flynn and I'd like to invite him to the party and surprise her."

Rusty liked Lieutenant Flynn. He had never really considered the idea of him and Sharon as a couple. They were always so professional around one another. But Flynn was the kind of decent guy that Sharon deserved. The more Rusty thought about it, the more it dawned upon him that they did seem to look at one another an awful lot. And Flynn _had_ invited him and Sharon over for dessert on Christmas…

"Rusty?" prompted Samantha.

"Sure, Samantha," Rusty said, glancing at Sharon. "Do you want to talk to Sharon again?"

"No…and thank you!"

"Rusty, I'm going to bring this dress back inside and we'll go. Need me to grab anything for you when I go back in?" asked Sharon as she unhooked her dress from the hook in the backseat.

"No, I'm all set." Sharon walked back toward the apartment, leaving her cell phone with Rusty. It was the perfect opportunity. He went into her contact list, found Flynn's cell phone number, memorized it, and quickly called Samantha back with the requested information.

Getting in touch with Andy Flynn was easy. He answered the phone on Samantha's first try.

"Flynn."

"Hi," said Samantha brightly, "this is Samantha Leary. I'm Sharon Raydor's sister. I'm calling to invite you to a Christmas Eve party at my home tonight. Sharon will be there, of course. I realize that you might not be able to make it with other family obligations but I wanted to extend an invitation anyway. Wear whatever you want. A lot of people go black tie but a lot don't. We have a blast. Hor d'oeuvres and desserts. Starts at 8. We party half the night so even if you want to come late, you'd me more than welcome. You can spend the night if you'd like, too." Samantha gave him her address.

"Thanks….that's very nice of you to offer. Is Sharon all right?"

"She's fine. But I think she'd be a lot more fine if you'd come, Mr. Flynn."

"Andy," he corrected.

"Andy," Samantha agreed. "Either Sam or Samantha is fine for me. I'm sure you're wondering why the invitation didn't come from Sharon. She doesn't know that I've called you and she'll probably be furious with me for this but that's never stopped me before." Samantha laughed. "The reason for my invitation is simple. Sharon really likes you. It's been a long time since I've seen her truly happy and I think your presence would be a definite boost. There's no pressure. Either way, I definitely want to meet you—either now or later."

"I'm going to my daughter's but I could be in San Diego by about midnight…."

"That's fine; I'll make sure my little sister doesn't turn into a pumpkin. You'll have a great time. I hope you can make it. And Andy—don't say a word to Sharon."

"Got it."

"I knew I liked you. See you soon, Andy."

* * *

Rusty hesitated as the GPS told him to turn left in what looked like a very private driveway.

"This is it, kiddo," Sharon told him with a little smile. The drive turned out to be nearly a quarter of a mile long and ended at a gate, complete with buzzer, camera, and speaker. Rusty looked a little panicked and turned to Sharon.

"Just hit the little black button," instructed Sharon. She leaned over the seat as he did and waved at the camera. The gate swung open and Rusty drove through.

"This is really nice," said Rusty.

"Samantha doesn't do things halfway."

"Did you grow up here?" Rusty asked curiously.

"You can park over there," Sharon instructed, motioning to a spot a little beyond the wide circular drive.

"No. This is all Sam's. You look nervous." Sharon patted his arm and gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't be."

Samantha opened the door and ran down the steps waving madly at them. She was a platinum blonde version of Sharon in a pale blue sweater and jeans. Her hair was cut in the short waves of Marilyn Monroe and she wore the actress' trademark red lipstick. With a shriek, she threw her arms around Sharon and gave her a huge hug.

"Oxygen would be nice," wheezed Sharon. But it was clear that she was very glad to see her sister.

Sam hugged Rusty next. "Aren't you adorable?" she said enthusiastically. "Welcome!" She turned back to Sharon. "Let me look at you." She took in Sharon's perfectly pressed gray Armani suit and white blouse. Not a hair was out of place. Sharon was, as always, impeccable. Next, Samantha gently took off Sharon's sunglasses and she looked at her twin's bruised face without making a sound.

"It's not the first time I've been clobbered in the face and it probably won't be the last; it comes with the job of being a cop," Sharon said lightly. Sam put an arm around Sharon and another around Rusty and walked them into the house, chattering about how her make-up artist friend would take care of it. But inside she was seething and would have gladly cleaved Richard Raydor in two.

"Rusty, let me show you around the house and to your room. Shar, Kate and Ryan are in the sun room if you want to chat with them," she said meaningfully.

"Thanks, Sam." Sharon took Rusty's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'll catch up with you in a bit, okay?"

Sharon put her sunglasses in her purse and headed to the sun room. She took a deep breath, released the air, and walked in. Ryan was sitting on the sofa next to his wife, a petite blue-eyed brunette named Elle. Sharon could still recall Elle's short spiky hair, thick black eyeliner and Goth days. Elle was an artist and now illustrated children's books. She'd known Ryan since they were teenagers and even with all the piercings and the heavy black makeup, which she'd long ago given up, Elle had always been a complete sweetheart. She was the kind of girl every mother hoped their son would wed and when Ryan married her three years ago, Sharon couldn't have been more pleased. Kate stood across from them in a pale yellow top and white skirt.

Ryan's face lit up when he saw his mother and darkened when he saw her black and blue eye.

"Hey, Mom." Ryan hugged her, rocking her back and forth. Sharon gave her son a kiss on the cheek. Elle hugged her mother-in-law next, kissing the uninjured side of Sharon's face. Kate just looked at her mother but didn't move, and it was Sharon who went over to her and hugged her daughter.

"Merry Christmas," said Sharon.

"Mom, were you decking some bad guys and forgetting to duck?" her son teased lightly but his brow was creased with worry.

"Something like that," Sharon answered vaguely. "Look, why don't we all sit?"

Everyone sat except Kate who remained rigidly in her original position. Ryan and Elle sat on the sofa and made room for Sharon in between them.

"Aunt Samantha said that you wanted to talk to us before we all got ready for the party," began Ryan. "Is everything okay, Mom?"

"Dad's not coming," interjected Kate. "He called me on his cell phone and said he couldn't make it." Despite Sharon and Richard's differences, Samantha had always extended an invitation to him. Richard and Sharon would arrive separately, of course, and they were always civil. That way Ryan and Kate could see both of their parents on Christmas Eve. Ryan gave his sister a warning look.

"Damn it, Kate, you promised you wouldn't do this," Ryan cautioned his twin.

"Your father called you?" Sharon asked. She was genuinely surprised. Richard wasn't supposed to have contact with the family for the first couple of weeks at the rehab center. That's why Sharon had been asked to talk to the kids to let them know about Richard's whereabouts. If Richard had called Kate, it meant one thing.

He wasn't in rehab anymore.

"Yes, he called me. He was very upset," continued Kate. "He said that he and Mom had an argument." She turned to her mother, eyes flashing. "He went to see you to pick up some suits from your apartment and you were entertaining some guy in your nightgown—"

"Kate!" Ryan exclaimed. "She's a grown woman and they've been separated for over thirteen years, for God's sake. "Let's not pretend that Dad hasn't had girlfriends."

"But at least he warns her. That's a lot different than coming in and suddenly seeing your wife with another guy."

"Listen to yourself. You're being completely irrational and ridiculous!," Ryan exclaimed.

"I don't want you two arguing," Sharon interrupted calmly. "I will explain what happened." She looked at Kate. "I will not defend myself. But I will describe the events of the evening and put things in perspective.

First of all, your father and I are getting a divorce but you both already know that. We've been living separate lives for the past thirteen years. It was mutually understood that we could, if we wanted to, see other people without having to explain to the other person.

I went to a Christmas party Friday night with a friend from work and yes, he was with me in the morning when your father arrived. His name is Andy Flynn and I've known him for the past five years but we've only become close very recently. He's in my life and I hope he chooses to continue to be in it in the time to come."

Sharon continued the story and explained that Richard had been high on cocaine and had been drinking. She also explained that he was responsible for her bruised face. She distanced herself from the situation and simply recounted facts, as she would in a case—somehow, it made the telling easier.

"Your father checked into drug rehab." Sharon pulled a little notepad out of her purse and ripped off the first page, handing it to her son. "The information for the facility is there. I'm not sure what his status is, though, if he was calling Kate. I'm sorry. I know that this is terrible news to deliver to you on Christmas Eve but you needed to know."

Ryan was holding Sharon's hand. He'd interlaced his fingers through hers sometime during the moments when she was explaining what had happened. Kate was looking straight ahead, not saying anything.

"I can't believe he hit you," Ryan said angrily.

"I think it was the drugs talking," said Sharon.

"That's very generous of you, Mom," Kate spat and stormed out of the room.

There was an uncomfortable silence. "Ryan, why don't you give the facility a call and check on your dad's status," Elle suggested.

"Yeah, let me do that." He kissed his wife on the cheek and went to make the call.

Elle leaned toward Sharon. "Don't mind Kate. She and Patrick broke up a couple of days ago. I don't think she's really angry at you."

Sharon fidgeted with the buttons on her jacket. "It wasn't always like this with Kate and me. I don't know. Somewhere along the way this division happened. Kate and her dad. Me and Ryan." She rubbed her face in her hand. "I don't know."

Ryan came back in the room. "Okay….the bad news is that dad did start the process of checking out of rehab which is when he must have called Kate. The good news is that one of the counselors talked with him and he's back. We can't contact him for two weeks but they will call me if he checks out."

"Oh, honey, I'm so, so sorry about all of this."

"Don't be sorry, Mom. It's not your fault."

"I'm going to go find Kate," Sharon said.

Sharon had always wanted to protect her kids; it's the natural instinct of a mother. She'd downplayed Richard's antics during the marriage. She'd known about the gambling but she'd often looked the other way-a lot more than she should have. Was the drug use new? Sharon wondered. Is it possible that she just hadn't noticed? He hadn't been a very good husband but the one thing she had to say about him was that he cared about his kids. At his best he was vibrant, funny, and fun to be around. At his worst, like recently, he could be manipulative and vindictive.

Sharon found Kate walking down the hallway. "I was looking for you," Kate told her mother when she saw her. "I'm sorry for the things that I said to you earlier. I didn't mean them. Not really."

"It's okay. Your father is back in rehab. Ryan just checked in with the rehab center."

Kate nodded. "That's good." She promptly burst into tears.

"Oh, Kate…." Sharon reached for her daughter and Kate allowed her mother to embrace her, crying against her shoulder. "I don't know why I'm having such a hard time with all of this."

"It isn't an easy thing," Sharon said sympathetically. "You've been hit with a lot all at once. The next couple of weeks will be critical for your dad but I'll always be here for you, Kate. You know that. No matter what is happening between me and your father. If you want to come stay with me in L.A. for a while, you know the invitation is always there."

"Is Rusty staying with you?"

"Only when he's not in college. I love Rusty, Kate, and I won't apologize for it. Love isn't like a cup of sugar or a pound of flour. You can't measure it and it doesn't run out. I don't love you or your brother any less because I love Rusty, too. This problem that your dad has…it's _his_ problem, honey. You didn't cause it. I didn't cause it. And you can be there in the background to be supportive if you choose to. But it is not your responsibility to fix. Only your dad can do that. The good news as that your dad's problem is out in the open; I really had no idea that he had a drug habit. But at least now he can face it and hopefully stay on the road to recovery."

Kate continued to cry quietly on her mother's shoulder. Sharon held her until her tears subsided and she was quiet. "I'm not sure if I'm up for this party," Kate sniffled.

"Let's not go then. We'll break out the Ben & Jerry's, stay in our pajamas, and spend the night watching Christmas specials." It was something Sharon and Kate used to do a lot when she was a little girl, eat ice dream and watch a marathon of holiday shows.

"You'd give up the party for me?"

"Of course I would." Whatever you need." Sharon pulled a couple of neatly folded Kleenex out of her purse and handed them to her daughter who dabbed her eyes.

Kate shook her head. "No…no….it's Christmas Eve," Kate said. "Aunt Samantha puts on a pretty great party. Lots of eligible bachelors. Maybe I'll at least get a one night stand out of the deal."

"As your mother, I am going to pretend that I didn't hear that."

Sharon checked on Rusty. He had found Ryan and Elle and the three of them were playing Wii Sports in Samantha's game room. Ryan had been comfortable with Rusty from the start and Sharon was thrilled to see them having a good time together.

"Play with us, Sharon," coaxed Elle. "Let's show these boys what real women are made of!" She tossed Sharon a Wii mote. Sharon caught it without missing a beat with one hand.

"I'm game," laughed Sharon. "But in a half hour we really should start getting ready."

"That's my mother," teased Ryan. "Our little planner."

"Your mother and I are going to wipe the floor with you boys," Elle sang.

"Oh, bring it on ladies!" Ryan grinned.

* * *

Back in L.A. Andy Flynn was just arriving at his daughter's house to spend Christmas Eve with her, her husband, and his grandchildren. As he hung his leather jacket up in the hall closet, he wondered how Sharon had made out talking to her children about the situation with their father. He was putting his car keys in the right pocket of the jacket when his fingertips touched a piece of silky, diaphanous fabric. He pulled Sharon's scarf out of the pocket-the black and burgundy one that she'd left at his house a week ago. He had folded it and put it in his pocket to bring to her at work but he had completely forgotten about it and hadn't worn the jacket for several days. The familiar soft white floral scent of her perfume still lingered faintly in the fabric just the way she lingered in his mind-only not so faintly.


	10. Chapter 10

The dress that Samantha had bought for Sharon was a deep, rich shade of sapphire blue. The light fabric skimmed her body and emphasized her curves. It was a floor length gown, elegant and simple, classy and subtly sexy. The dress was a little more daring than Sharon's usual conservative fare but not so much so that she would refuse to wear it. Samantha knew her sister well. Make-up helped to mask the bruising around Sharon's eye and in the soft lighting, the injury was even less noticeable.

Sharon danced with Rusty first, dragging him to the dance floor despite his protests. They were shortly joined by Elle and Ryan. No one could be self-conscious around Elle's winsome laughter and bright smile. Her lack of inhibition reminded Sharon of Samantha's free spiritedness. The live band played classic jazz—from breezy upbeat songs that begged for dancing to heart-sweeping love songs that made the couples on the dance floor draw closer to one another. And of course—there was Christmas music. Even Kate seemed more relaxed amidst the cheerful glow of Christmas lights and the scents of pine and cinnamon that wafted through the house. She chatted with a couple of old friends from her college days, danced, and spent a good half hour talking to Sharon about her recent break-up with her boyfriend. Even if there was still not complete accord between mother and daughter, there was a mutual understanding between them that they were both putting in the effort. It was progress.

"Having fun, little sister?" Samantha asked Sharon as she plopped down on the loveseat next to her, handing her another glass of Chardonnay. She looked sensational in her vintage-inspired, crimson 1950s style cocktail dress with its three quarter sleeves, square neckline, and flared skirt.

"This wine is starting to go to my head," Sharon warned Sam as she accepted the glass of wine. "It's straight up impossible not to have a good time at one of your parties. I'm glad I'm here."

One of the waitstaff approached Samantha and he whispered something in her ear. Her eyes sparkled merrily. "Shar, hostess-duty calls," she announced, " Excuse me."

"Something I can help you with, Sam?" asked Sharon. She set the glass of wine aside without taking a sip. She'd already had two glasses and she didn't want to be tipsy.

Samantha was already up and moving toward the hallway. "No….I'll be back in a few. Stay put," she trilled over her shoulder.

Samantha traipsed giddily down the hall and into the large entry way. Andy Flynn was leaning against one of the ivory columns dressed in a black shirt and gray pants, hands casually in his pockets, a toothpick in between the half-smiling arch of his lips. His eyes widened when he spotted Samantha.

"It's so good to meet you, Andy," Samantha bubbled as she rushed over to him. Andy extended his hand but Samantha waved it away and hugged him instead.

"Wow….I can't get over how much you look like Sharon," Andy marveled.

"And I was going for Marilyn," teased Samantha. "Didn't she tell you she had a twin?"

"No. I knew she had a sister but I didn't realize that you were identical twins."

"Typical Sharon and her secrecy. Well, growing up, I was always the one getting in trouble and Sharon was always digging me out of it. Thankfully, I've matured and she's mellowed. Now I mostly stay out of trouble these days. Mostly. I have to tell you—I'm pretty impressed with you driving two hours on Christmas Eve to come tonight."

"I'm glad I could make it. You still haven't told her that I was coming, have you?"

"Not a word."

"I don't think Sharon is all that partial to surprises."

"But she seems partial to _you_ so I wouldn't worry." Samantha took Andy's arm and began walking him toward the party.

Andy stopped. "How is she….really? Sharon keeps a lot in. You think she's doing all right?" He looked at Samantha intently and she saw concern written all over his face.

"She's mending," Samantha answered truthfully. "What would you like to drink?" she asked as they approached the bar.

"Ginger ale and soda water," Andy told the bartender.

"You don't drink?" asked Samantha.

"I'm an alcoholic. Sober for 15 years. Lot of AA meetings to get there. I still go every week."

Sam nodded. She appreciated Andy's honesty. She watched him remove the toothpick from his mouth and toss it into the little trash receptacle at the end of the bar. He wasn't looking at her anymore. His eyes scanned the room, searching. Sam leaned over and whispered in Andy's ear, "Other side of the bar."

Andy cocked his head to one side and grinned. He rose in one swift motion, his drink forgotten. He angled his body to slide in between a packed group of people. When he had picked his way through the crowd and emerged out the other side, he saw Sharon sitting on a loveseat. Her dress was the deep blue of the ocean, not the tame blue-green of the Pacific but the deeper, more raw blue of the Atlantic. Her hair was free of any pins and fell loose and wavy around her shoulders. Rusty sat next to her and it looked like they were playing a game on her phone. The device was between them and they appeared to be arguing good naturedly. Rusty looked up first, saw Andy, and smiled broadly. It took a few moments but Sharon realized that Rusty wasn't looking at the game anymore and she looked up to see where he was looking.

She saw Andy.

Sharon made a sound that resembled, "Oh" but it was a half-sigh, a blend of surprise and unexpected pleasure, uttered in that impossibly lyrical voice that was simultaneously as graceful as a Greek temple and as warm as the hearth fires contained within.

Andy moved the final few steps closer that brought him right next to Sharon and Rusty. "I was in the neighborhood," he explained—which of course really wasn't any explanation at all. He glanced at his watch. "Seeing as it's just a few minutes before midnight, it looks like I just got in on Christmas Eve under the wire. How're doin,' kid?" he asked Rusty and gave him a quick hug.

"Doing great. It's good to see you, Lieutenant Flynn."

"Andy," Flynn corrected.

"Andy," smiled Rusty. "Sharon's hopeless at 'Angry Birds.'"

Sharon wrinkled her nose. "It's the most ridiculous waste of time. The whole thing would be so much simpler if I could just shoot the birds."

"I think that's another game entirely, Sharon," mused Andy.

"You two don't look all that surprised to see one another," observed Sharon archly, narrowing those improbably green eyes. "And I expect Samantha wouldn't be either."

"I had a nice little chat with her on the way in," said Andy with a sly smile.

Sharon considered this information in her introspective way. Once Andy would have wondered what she was thinking but not now. He could see it the upturned corners of her mouth and in the soft way that her eyes shimmered when she looked at him. He could feel it when the tremulous tips of her fingers brushed against the canvas of his hand, barely touching, yet somehow still scorching his skin. But, best of all, what Andy knew now was that she _allowed_ him to see. The door that was once between them was now a window, one that he could not only peer into from afar-but walk through. There were no rules forcing him to keep her at arm's length, no secret untouchable part of her held in reserve.

He loved her for it—for that, and for so many other reasons.

She was immensely pleased to see him, as overjoyed as he was to see her—echoes of one another, although where the first original cadence came from, neither knew and neither cared. It didn't really matter. Only the shared ensuing resonance mattered, the unblemished chord, the perfect fifth. Attunement.

"You wanna dance?" Andy asked her, heart racing.

"I'd love to," Sharon answered politely. Inside, her heart fluttered; her pulse hammered.

"Is it okay if I steal her away for a few moments?" Andy asked Rusty but his eyes never left Sharon's face.

Rusty watched them. Sharon would be in safe-keeping with Andy Flynn, he reflected. Not that she needed protection. Sharon was a force of nature in and of herself. Even so, it was comforting to see her with someone trustworthy, especially after what her husband had done to her. Rusty's fists still clenched every time he thought about it, every single time he saw the purple mark on her face. But that was over and Sharon was in good hands.

"Go ahead," Rusty agreed.

Andy gave Sharon his arm and felt her answering squeeze as he steered her through the crowd to the dance floor. The song was a jazz standard, _This Is Always_ and the singer's warm baritone wafted like the scent of warm buttered toffee throughout the room, rich and mellow, accompanied only by the piano.

_Our love will live,_

_Our love will last._

_This is not a dream_

_That ended with the dawn-_

_It's one that fate intended to go on and on…_

Even in her heels, Sharon had to tip her head up to look at Andy. One of his arms held her waist and his other hand rested on her back. His fingers brushed the silky fabric of her dress, thumb just grazing the exposed skin above. Sharon's palms were positioned against his chest, as if they had always belonged there, as if it were their sole purpose merely to touch him.

"Surprised to see me?" Andy asked.

"Very surprised."

"Pleased?"

"Oh, so much more than that. Pleased doesn't even begin to cover it."

"Did you get a chance to talk to your kids about…Richard?" Her husband's name stuck in Andy's throat.

"Yes. My son—Ryan—took it well. My daughter Kate's having a harder time. But at least they know what happened. I told them everything." She was quiet for a moment. "I even told them about you."

Andy hadn't expected that, not because he didn't believe that Sharon cared about him but because she was cautious. And given what he knew of her history, it was no wonder.

"I've always wanted my children to be independent, to make their own choices," continued Sharon. "I grew up with a father who wanted to make every choice for me. And my mother was just—checked out half the time." Sharon's eyes misted over. "What kind of a role model would I be if I were afraid to stand behind my own choices? My very adult children can either accept or not accept the fact that I'm seeing you. But I won't hide it. And I won't apologize for it."

"And will they be coming after me with torches and pitchforks?"

"Machetes and barbed clubs," Sharon corrected.

Andy began to move away from Sharon in a gesture of mock fear. They both giggled and when they moved back together, they were even closer than they had been before.

"When I was in high school, Sister Rosemary used to come around at all the dances and make the couples move far enough apart from one another to allow the Holy Spirit to be between them," explained Sharon. She wasn't certain if her giddiness was from being so close to Andy or from the wine, but she lapsed into a rather uncontrollable giggle fit. "We'd be in big trouble….oh, my goodness, I think I'm overtired."

She was close enough now that when she moved her head, Andy's lips brushed against her forehead, right at the hairline. He inhaled the cherry blossom fragrance of her shampoo.

"Am I to take that as a hint that I should get you into bed?" Andy asked her with a smile that was both wolfish and sweet.

"Soon," Sharon promised, regaining her composure, "but you should enjoy the party for a little while and I would like to introduce you to my children."

The band was winding down so Sharon and Andy danced the last couple of songs. When they were finished, Sharon introduced Andy to Ryan and Elle. Her son was polite, friendly even. At the same time, Andy got the sense that he was being sized up, not necessarily in an unkind way. Ryan shared his mother's analytical precision and Andy was actually pretty impressed at how much information he was able to get out of him in such a short time frame. His petite wife was very friendly and she appeared to be quite fond of Sharon. In the end, Ryan told Andy that it was very nice to meet him and he hoped he'd join the family again.

Kate was another matter. She wasn't downright rude but her aversion to Andy Flynn was perfectly clear. Samantha was able to alleviate some of the tension with her usual charm, deflecting Kate's sour stares with jokes and laughter. Sharon noticed, of course, but to her credit she ignored it.

"Are you going back tomorrow morning—with him?" Kate asked Sharon with a little toss of her head. By "him" Sharon wasn't certain whether her daughter was referring to Andy or Rusty but it was obvious that she wasn't partial to either of them.

"I'll have to leave after we open presents. I'm working tomorrow, unfortunately," answered Sharon. " I have to be at the station at noon. And speaking of which—I should probably call it a night so I'm not a complete zombie tomorrow."

Samantha, the consummate hostess, walked Sharon and Andy out of the party. "Andy, I had your things brought up to Sharon's room." She looked from one to the other with a coy and knowing smile. "I assume that's all right?"

"Yes, that's fine…thanks," Andy answered while Sharon also answered a simultaneous, "That's great." They both responded much too quickly and Samantha was gratified to see them both blushing. Ruffling Sharon's feathers once in a while was so completely satisfying, mused Sam as she made her way back downstairs.

Sharon watched Andy stifle a yawn when they entered the bedroom. He looked tired—but he would be after driving two hours at 10:00 at night after already having spent an entire day with his own family. She appreciated the meaningfulness of the gesture. But beyond the fact that he looked tired, there was something else, a slight slump in his posture and a wistful expression in his eyes. Sharon touched his arm, leaned up, and kissed him softly on the mouth.

"Are you all right? It's not Kate, is it? She'll come around, I promise."

Andy sat down on the bed, looked at her, and sighed. "My son returned my Christmas card again. Every year I send one and every year it comes back like this." He pulled the small red envelope from the breast of his jacket. "He doesn't just throw it away; he actually goes through the trouble of making sure I know that he doesn't want it. I got it today before I left." He tossed the card on the bed and just looked at it.

Sharon didn't say anything. She simply sat next to him and leaned close. Her fingers found his and he responded to her offered hand by taking it firmly in his and wrapping an arm around her. Sharon didn't offer any platitudes. No promise that it would all work out. She didn't ask him any questions or force him to talk about it. She just sat there with him. And it was exactly what he needed. It was the best and most sincere comfort that she could have given him—just the act of being present for him. Completely and unconditionally. They sat together like that for many, many minutes.

With whispered words and soft kisses, they undressed and slipped into bed together.

"I'm sorry I'm so damned tired," Andy murmured into her hair.

"Mmmmm….don't be," Sharon answered sleepily. "I'm exhausted myself. We'll just have to make up for it tomorrow," Sharon added, nestling close.


	11. Chapter 11

Sharon woke up at 7:30 and found the space next to her empty. For one fleeting moment, she thought that Andy might have gone home but as she sat up, she noticed his overnight bag still on the floor and his clothes from last night hanging over a chair. Sharon padded out of bed and took a quick shower. She hastily dressed for work and packed up her things. She'd have to leave by ten if she wanted to make it to the station on time.

When she arrived downstairs, Sharon was greeted by the delicious aroma of coffee and breakfast. Sam was up and so were Rusty, Elle, and Ryan. Rusty and her son were locked head to head engaged in a game of chess. Samantha was talking with Charles whom both she and Sharon had known since they were little girls. Charles had been the family butler but to Sharon and Samantha, he had been so much more than that. He was more a father to them than their biological father had ever been. He had fixed their scraped knees when they were little girls, offered a shoulder to cry on during the trials of adolescence, and been a constant touchstone during their adulthood. Samantha and Sharon had made certain that he always had a place with one of them even after his retirement. Charles was family. He was a tall gentleman with silver hair and bright cornflower blue eyes. He had a dimple on his left cheek that appeared when he smiled—which was often. Even well into his eighties, he was still an attractive man—and sharp as a tack.

Sharon greeted everyone, walked over to Charles, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You're still the handsomest man in the room," she told him.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Sharon." Despite both Samantha and Sharon's insistence that he drop the "Miss" part, Charles still addressed them this way-although it had become far more a term of endearment than a formality.

"I missed you at the party last night," she said warmly.

"I went to see my great-nephew and his family," explained Charles. "And now I get to spend Christmas here with all of you." He gave Sharon's hand a squeeze.

"Can I do your hair, Sharon?" Elle asked her mother-in-law.

"Sure, honey." Sharon turned back to Charles. "You've met Rusty?"

Charles nodded. "He's giving Ryan a run for his money over there."

"Sharon, we've decided that we're kidnapping Rusty," announced Elle as she began brushing Sharon's long copper colored hair. "You got called into work unexpectedly and Rusty shouldn't spend Christmas alone. Andy said that he'll drive you back. Rusty can stay with us for the night and drive back in the morning."

"Well…if Rusty wants to," said Sharon.

"He has no say in the matter," laughed Elle as she began twisting Sharon's hair into a neat French twist. "He's kicking my husband's sorry butt at chess. One more win and it will be two out of three. Glorious victory!"

"Thanks for your wifely support. I haven't played for a while," Ryan defended himself. "And I was up all night."

"We've _all_ been up all night," piped in Samantha. "Speaking of which, I think I might need more coffee. Andy makes the most delicious cappuccino. You didn't tell me he was so good in the kitchen, Shar."

Andy came into the room as if on cue. He had two steaming cups of cappuccino in his hands, one of which he handed to Samantha and the other he gave to Sharon. Covered in frothy bubbles and dusted with cinnamon and chocolate—it indeed smelled delicious. Andy and Sharon brushed hands during the exchange of the coffee cup and Sam noted inwardly that there was something in the room a hell of a lot hotter than Andy's cappuccino. It was good to see her sister so happy, sharing such a strong connection with someone—after all of those anemic years spent married to Richard Raydor. It had been Samantha's idea to invite Rusty to spend another day. Her purpose was twofold. She thought that Sharon and Andy might enjoy a little alone time and she really did want to make Rusty feel like part of the family. After all….he _was_ a part of it.

Elle put the last few pins in Sharon's hair and studied her handiwork. "Tres chic!" she grinned, giving Sharon a hand mirror. Sharon smiled appreciatively and thanked her daughter-in-law. Elle's mother had left shortly after Elle was born so Sharon's presence in her life had been especially important. Sharon put down the mirror and looked around the room.

"Where's Kate?"

There was a moment of quiet. "Oh, sweetie, Kate went out for a drive. She'll be back in a little while," Samantha said vaguely.

"A drive? On Christmas?" Sharon's expression was incredulous. "What aren't you telling me?" Her voice was sharp.

Ryan looked up from his chess game. His face was sympathetic when he glanced over at Sharon. "She went to go visit dad—at the clinic." He left out the part about himself and his sister having a rather heated argument about her going.

"I see," Sharon said quietly. There wasn't much that she could do about it. Kate could make her own choices and if she wanted to spend a few hours on Christmas with her father, no one could stop her. It saddened Sharon though that her husband's influence was so strong and she couldn't help but wonder if she could have done something differently along the way. Sharon sighed softly. It seemed that lately she and Kate took two steps forward and three steps back at every turn.

Rusty won the third round of chess to Elle's delight. "Hand 'em over, Sam," she ordered.

Samantha handed her a large bag of chocolate covered espresso beans.

"I can't believe you bet against your own husband," grumbled Ryan pinching his wife as he watched the exchange. "Thanks for your good faith, Auntie," he added, nodding at Samantha.

"Yeah…well, that's the last time I bet on you."

Elle cackled and popped three espresso beans into her mouth. "Chocolate AND caffeine. I'm going to be so wired!" She smiled brightly-only it wasn't exactly just because she had won the bet. She couldn't help but notice how Andy's free hand rested lightly over Sharon's as he munched on his croissant. They were awfully cozy. In all the years that she had known Sharon, she had never seen her look as intimate with Richard as she did now, sitting next to Andy Flynn.

Samantha proposed a few rounds of Pictionary for whoever was interested in playing. Board games were a family tradition, especially around the holidays. They paired up into two teams: Andy, Sharon, and Rusty against Elle, Ryan, and Samantha. Both teams fought vehemently over Charles but he opted to remain impartial, to keep score, and to observe.

Sharon's turn to draw came up while Rusty and Andy guessed. "No wonder why you never did much drawing on the murder board," teased Andy as he peered at her dilapidated stick figure. This earned him a quick glare over the tops of her glasses.

"On the outside looking in," suggested Rusty. Sharon shook her head.

Andy tilted his head to the side as he scrutinized her drawing. "Peeping tom," exclaimed Andy suddenly. "Voyeur!"

"Time's up, kids," squealed Samantha.

"Peeping tom," huffed Sharon shaking the drawing at Andy. "It's a window washer."

"If that's a window washer, what is he holding in his hand?" asked Andy.

"It's a cloth to clean the windows!"

Samantha snorted. "I'm with Lieutenant Flynn. That certainly doesn't look like a cloth." Six pairs of eyes peered intently at Sharon's drawing. Even Charles couldn't hide his amused smile.

Elle was laughing so hard she had to cover her mouth. "Sorry Sharon. I love you with all my heart but your window washer is a total perv."

"You people are terrible," laughed Sharon. "With your minds in the gutter."

"Hey, you're the one that drew it," said Samantha.

Andy pocketed the drawing and leaned over Sharon's ear. "I am so going to pin that up at my desk at work."

"Behave yourself," she whispered back.

"Now what fun is there in that?" he answered.

Samantha's team easily won the game. By the time they finished, it was time to open presents. Unfortunately they had to rush a little bit because it was getting later and Sharon had to leave for work. Rusty was eager to stay and Sharon was thrilled to see not only him having such a good time, but the rest of the family, too. There were hugs and kisses all around before Sharon and Andy left and plans were made to get together again shortly after the New Year.

* * *

Andy drove himself and Sharon back to L..A. With the holiday, traffic was extremely light. He glanced at her sitting next to him and couldn't suppress a smile while his hands gripped the steering wheel. Sharon saw it and answered with a smile of her own. Nat King Cole crooned "I'll Be Home For Christmas" from Andy's radio.

"When's the last time you saw your son?" Sharon asked, "if you don't mind me asking."

"I see him at weddings and wakes, maybe an occasional family gathering. About a year ago was the last time. Joe is older than Kara so he has more memories of what an asshole I could be. I never hit the kids—I don't want you to think that it was anything like that. But I was a lousy drunk, to just say it like it is. I cared more about what was at the end of a bottle than I did about my children. I don't want you to have any illusions about me, Sharon. I was a bad alcoholic. It's funny how we swear that we won't be like our parents. I swore I'd never drink like my father did and yet that's just how I ended up."

Sharon nodded. "I swore I'd never let anybody control me like _my_ father did and look whom I married. Richard did it differently, all underhanded tactics and manipulation. But the end result was the same. I think it's hard to see all of those deep wired patterns because we're just too close to them. Thank goodness for maturity and experience."

"Andy, I think it's really wonderful that you keep trying with your son. It can't be easy to continually put yourself out there like that. It says a lot about your character and about how much you care about your kids."

"Thanks. I won't ever give up. Maybe someday I can prove to him that I've changed. I'm really grateful that I was able to mend things with Kara and that I get to spend time with my grandkids."

"I'd like to fix things with my daughter, too," Sharon said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Let's hope the new year brings some progress for both of us, hmmm?" She brushed her hand against his knee and their eyes met.

Andy dropped Sharon off at her apartment so that she could drop her things off and take her own car to the station. He helped her bring her bags in. Walking out together, they stood in the vestibule of Sharon's apartment and he turned to her, brushing her arm with his hand.

"Still want to come by for dessert after work?" His voice was casual, undemanding-but his eyes were hopeful. "I know how it is….I know it could be a late night for—"

Sharon stood up on her toes and stopped his words with a slow kiss, both hands on either side of his face. "You can take that as a yes," she told him earnestly, mouth still very close to his. She began to pull away but not before she murmured a heartfelt "I love you." To the casual observer it might seem like a quick declaration. But it wasn't. She'd been falling in love with him by degrees for years, over sips of coffee, over haphazard lunches on the run, in the moments when they'd look at one another over a case file and come to the same conclusion. It was the smallest things—that damned toothpick and his little boy smile, the way he could make her erupt into a hearty belly laugh with one well-chosen, perfectly timed dry comment. It was the bigger things, too—his unfailing support no matter what the crisis and the fact that he'd given up a position that she knew meant a great deal to him to pursue a relationship with her. She loved him for countless reasons but they all brought her to the same destination. To him.

And Sharon Raydor knew with unequivocal certainty that with Andy Flynn was exactly where she belonged.


	12. Chapter 12

Andy put the lemon chiffon pie in the fridge that he'd made for them. Sharon would be late and he figured a lighter dessert was in order. He'd had a pleasant Christmas at his daughter's. Kara mentioned that Joe asked about him from time to time; Andy had to take that as a good sign. Maybe he'd come around. He'd meant it when he told Sharon that he'd never stop trying to rebuild his relationship with his son.

Sharon had suddenly gone into high octane mode after her lovely little display of affection at her apartment. With a furtive glance at her watch, she'd announced that she was going to be late in an uncharacteristically high pitched tone. She was out of his arms and rushing to her car before he could get a word in edgewise, even dodging his attempt to pull her back to him. She did turn around to smile at him and collided with an elderly lady carrying a bag of presents who seemed none too pleased.

Her text message at 7:00 alerted him that she'd arrive around 8:00. At 8:12, he received another that it wouldn't be until 9:00ish. He heard her soft knock at the door a little after 9:30.

"I'm so sorry, Andy," she apologized as she stepped inside. "I didn't expect to be so late." Andy didn't ask about the case that she was working on because he knew that the last thing she'd want to do was talk about it after 9 plus hours of living it. Now that he wasn't working homicide cases, he sometimes wondered how the hell he'd done it for all of those years. He was surprised at how little he missed the work. He helped her out of her perfectly tailored red overcoat and hung it up for her. She looked immaculate in her gray suit and Elle's French twist remained flatteringly intact. She was lovely with her hair up; it emphasized her high cheekbones and the slope of her neck.

"Don't be sorry just come here," he instructed, his voice low. Andy grasped her waist and pulled her very willingly into his embrace. It was still such a thrill to finally be able to be close to him. Months and months of suppressed longing had certainly taken their toll. Toward the end, Sharon had sometimes avoided Andy—not even always consciously—but her professionalism was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain and she couldn't lose control of herself. As his superior, she felt it was her responsibility to keep the line between them sharp and clear. Staying away from him had been necessary because, she reflected, if she hadn't withdrawn a little bit there was no way she would have been able to maintain the distance. Her resolve had been quickly crumbling—especially during the final couple of months right before Andy's transfer. But there was nothing to separate her from him now. As he kissed her hungrily with his body flush against hers, she made an involuntary sound of pure pleasure. He just felt so good, the firmness of his body, the easy way he just seemed to completely envelop her, the insistent press of his mouth, and the luxurious warmth of his hands as he began to caress her back.

"Shall I put on a pot of coffee?" Andy asked her, releasing her only partially. He couldn't bring himself to relinquish her completely, although if they kept up like that they'd never get to dessert—which was fine with him but he knew she was probably hungry.

"Yes….thanks," said Sharon. Her knees were mush and she was silently grateful for the steadying arm that was still lightly around her waist.

"You hungry? I've got some fresh turkey and I could make you a sandwich. I made a lemon chiffon pie for us but I figured you might want real food, too."

Sharon gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "You're too good, Mr. Flynn. That would be wonderful. I _am_ hungry. What can I do?"

"Nothing but sit and relax." He pulled out a stool for her by the kitchen island. She crossed her legs and angled herself to be able to watch him. She was a welcome distraction in her black pumps with those oh-so-shapely legs dangling invitingly. Sharon observed him with equal ardor and he caught her vivid glances as he darted around the kitchen. The sexual tension hung in the air between them and dulled their usual easy conversation. Neither of them seemed able to manage anything but short sentences. Sharon would have found the whole situation comical if it weren't for the fact that she was unused to the compelling need that he inspired in her. She felt heady and tingly as if she'd consumed too many glasses of wine. Sharon liked to be in control of situations. Andy Flynn disrupted her cool detachment and her carefully managed equilibrium. It was as unsettling as it was intoxicating but despite all of that, Sharon felt a heedless desire to completely give into it.

Andy watched her bring tiny forkfuls of lemon chiffon pie to her perfect mouth, chew delicately, and swallow. He couldn't remember ever before finding the simple act of a woman eating to be erotic but he finally had to turn away from the unintentional seductiveness of it. He'd barely even touched her yet and he was already beginning to feel the telltale stirrings of unmistakable arousal in his body.

"This might be a good time to give you your Christmas present," he said tightly as he got up from the stool and retrieved a small blue Tiffany's box tied with white ribbon. Sharon licked lemon chiffon from her lips before wiping gently with her napkin.

"This is so delicious, Andy….really, really amazing." Her voice was breathy. "And when did you manage to get me something for Christmas?"

He grinned. "Oh, I have my ways. Open it."

Sharon untied the ribbon and opened up the box. Inside was a simple and elegant sterling silver pendant of two interlocking circles. It was simple and beautiful, something that she could wear every day.

She leaned over and kissed him and he tasted the citrus from the dessert on her lips. "This is so beautiful. I absolutely love it. I've always been partial to silver jewelry."

He smiled at her, almost shyly. "I know….I noticed."

"Will you put it on me?" She undid the clasp and held the end of the chain in each of her hands, offering it to him.

"Turn around."

Sharon turned and Andy gathered up the few tendrils of hair at the back of her neck that were loose from her French twist so that he wouldn't catch them in the clasp. He brought the pendant around her throat, fumbling a little with the clasp but finally getting it to catch. He kissed the nape of her neck before allowing her hair to fall back into place and rubbed her shoulders. Sharon hummed and closed her eyes.

"You are not the only one who has his ways," Sharon advised, her voice slightly hazy. She rose from her seat and dug a small flat red box out of her purse. She handed it to him. "Merry Christmas, Andy." She scooted back up onto her stool with a provocative little wiggle of her hips that was most definitely not an accident.

She was going to kill him.

Andy opened it up, half watching her the whole time. Inside were four premier hockey tickets to go see the Los Angeles Kings play against the Detroit Red Wings in January. Andy was smiling broadly. It was a very thoughtful gift and it spoke volumes about how much she paid attention to his interests. They gazed at one another with mutual yearning. Sharon's fork clattered against her plate and fell to the floor when they both reached for one another at the same time, mouths and arms entangling without thought or care for a heated kiss.

"I thought maybe you could….invite your….son," she offered breathlessly in between a series of more kisses. Her hands were all over his torso, sliding around to the back. "I've found that…with my own kids…a little bribery never….hurts." He pulled her up off her stool against his body but the leverage wasn't right and if they continued this way they were going to end up plummeting right onto the floor. Maybe that wasn't such a half bad idea, Andy reflected, although he certainly didn't want to spend the night in the ER explaining to the medical personnel that he was the cause of his girlfriend's broken wrist because he'd been feeling her up on a rickety stool in the kitchen.

The bedroom was just too damned far away, at least for now. Maybe they could slowly make their way there with a detour or two along the way. Andy managed to stand up on shaky legs and somehow take her with him. Without any thought for finesse, he backed her up against the opposite wall and began unbuttoning her blouse. He got about halfway before deciding that the whole endeavor was taking too long and pulled the bottom half out from its neatly tucked position in her skirt. He yanked one strap of her camisole down and then slid two hands up under her blouse while he kissed his way along her neck. He felt her fingers, soft and slightly shaky, unbuttoning his shirt. While his mouth wandered over to her right shoulder in a stream of more kisses and nibbles, she barely managed to get him the rest of the way out of his shirt. He grunted in protest when she pushed his arms back enough to pull them out of the sleeves of his shirt as the action interrupted the steady path his hands had been making to get rid her bra.

He moved her again, a mere few feet this time, knocking aside the pieces of mail and other odds and ends on his dry sink cabinet. Loose change scattered to the floor followed by five or six coasters and a spare set of keys. All negligible. Andy lifted her and deposited her onto the flat surface. He'd been thinking about getting rid of the dry sink just a couple of weeks ago. But the height was so perfect for what he intended—he would definitely have to reconsider that.

"If you want me to move us into the bedroom," Andy murmured as he kissed between her breasts, speak now or forever hold your peace," he warned.

"I think we're just fine right here," she panted as she moved her hands to the waistband of his pants. She unbuttoned them easily, pulled down the zipper, and began to stroke him through his boxers. He was already hard and his gasp turned into a full-fledged moan with one, simple, and well-timed flick of her wrist.

"Sharon…"

Andy brought his hands to her knees and lifted up her skirt; Sharon assisted. She was still wearing her heels and it was sexy as hell. Andy impatiently pulled her panties down past shapely thighs and toned legs. He traced the tips of his fingers along the silky surface of her inner thighs. She tipped her head back and only half bit back a moan. He kissed her neck while he touched her, remembering from the last time how much she liked that. His fingers dipped easily into her center, slow and exploratory while he placed love bites along her neck. Whatever final semblance of control she was clinging to completely vanished and she gave herself up both to the moment and to him with utter abandon. Sounds emitted from her throat that Andy had never yet had the pleasure to hear and he hoped that he'd get many more opportunities to do so. She was vocal and responsive, trembling and utterly lovely as they both focused completely on giving one another pleasure.

"Andy, please."

He wouldn't make her ask again and he wasn't going last much longer anyway. He pulled her forward just a tad to make the angle easier, parted her legs a little wider, and slid slowly inside her, caressing her face and gazing at her the whole time. When he was inside her completely, she wound both arms around his neck and buried her face into the hollow of his neck, inhaling the scent of him while she took him into her body. She would never be able to get enough of him. They moved together, fast and hot and hard. The first time when they had made love at her apartment, it had been slow and languorous; this time was quick and desperate and passionate, months of wanting distilled into one perfect act of consummation and release.

"Come for me," he encouraged, slipping a hand in between their bodies to touch her. With a molten cry, the first wave of her orgasm crashed over her and she arched against him. When the second wave hit her, she cried out even more loudly and repeatedly. Andy came then with a long, satisfied moan. They held one another through the shared tremors that slowly subsided down into little quivers until they were both still, clinging together, and breathing hard.

They kissed again, softly and sweetly. He padded his thumb along the curve of her cheek and felt wetness there.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked suddenly all seriousness and concern.

"Oh, God no…." she laughed and the sound was as warm as the body that he held. "No…" She nuzzled her face against his. "I'm just happy. Overwhelmingly happy."

Andy looked at her. Her hair was half undone. Her blouse was open and her skirt was bunched up around her waist. Her lips were very red from all of the kissing and he was pretty certain that in his own half undressed state he was in equal disarray.

"That color looks really good on you," giggled Sharon.

"Huh?"

"My lipstick is all over you." She wiped it off with her thumb and then with the back of her hand.

"How about we move this into the den with the Christmas tree and some music?"

"Are clothes optional?" she asked.

"Discouraged, actually."

"Well, in that case…."

"And there's something that we need to talk about," he added mysteriously.

"Sounds like serious business," Sharon mused as she pulled down her skirt and straightened it.

"It is."

They made their way into the den. Andy put on a radio station that played non-stop Christmas music and turned on the Christmas tree. He left for a few moments and returned with sheets, pillows, and blankets. He made one more trip out to the kitchen to grab a bottle of sparkling apple cider and two glasses. When he returned, Sharon helped him spread the sheet on the leather couch; they'd be more comfortable. When she began to remove the rest of her clothes, he stopped her.

"I'd like to do that," Andy smiled. He gave her a long look, asking the same permission with his eyes that he had asked with his voice.

She smiled back at him. "All right." He undressed her completely, starting with the blouse that she had hastily rebuttoned and working his way through each piece of clothing. He took his time, caressing her skin with the removal of each garment. When she was completely naked, he eased her down onto the couch, covering her up with the blanket.

Andy opened the bottle of cider. He poured some into each of the glasses and placed them on the end table next to the couch.

"I hope you're not planning on allowing me to be naked all by myself."

"Certainly not." Andy stripped his clothes off in record time, clothes flying in every direction. "Scoot over."

Sharon obeyed but not before giving him an appreciative once-over. Andy slipped onto the sofa behind her. They shared the pillows. He pulled the blanket over them both and they spooned, warm and comfortable in one another's arms with the friendly glow of the Christmas tree lighting up the room.

Andy had his arms wrapped around her waist. He gave her a gentle and possessive squeeze. "Now," he teased, "that you can't slip away from me like you did this afternoon—we do have a little matter to discuss." He kissed her neck.

"I'm listening," she answered contentedly.

"You made a rather important proclamation and didn't give me a chance to respond."

"Did I?" she asked innocently.

"You did. I think I might like to hear it again."

"About me being late for work?" she suggested evasively.

Andy found a stray pin in her hair that he'd missed and gently plucked it out, running his fingers through the red-gold strands. "It had nothing to do with work and you know it."

"Hmmm, I wonder what it could have been." Sharon rolled over and faced him. She paused for four or five heartbeats. "I love you," she admitted finally, looking directly into his eyes.

"I love you, too...so, so much."

Sharon stroked his cheek. "Just remember who said it first."


	13. Epilogue

January proved to be a good month for Andy and Sharon. After ten months of arguments and paperwork, meetings and refusals, Sharon's divorce was finalized. The paperwork arrived stained with raindrops on a damp morning in the middle of the month. Thankfully, all was completely legible inside the battered brown envelope. They celebrated in Andy's tiny office, preferred by both of them because it was so secluded. EPEU had its little perks. Andy's son Joe and his wife Beth attended the hockey game with him and Sharon. The two women somehow got mysteriously lost heading to the snack bar and complained about a horrendous line—missing forty-five minutes of the game and not fooling the men for one moment.

Sharon organized a girls' night in February for Kate, Samantha, Kara, herself, and Elle. She followed it up with a weekend in San Diego for the sole purpose of spending time with her daughter. A week later Ryan and Elle came to visit on a day trip to share the news that in September Sharon would be a grandmother.

By March, Sharon was spending so much time at Andy's that her apartment was growing cobwebs. When she couldn't find something—a watch, her hair dryer, her favorite nightgown—she was never certain if she had misplaced it or if it was simply at Andy's. Of course, this ran contrary to Sharon's meticulous nature and made her frazzled and discombobulated. The problem was easily solved when Andy presented her with a set of keys to his house, told her that it didn't really feel like home anyway unless she was there, and invited her to move in.

Without a moment's hesitation, she said yes—and like so many milestone moments in their relationship, it down poured on the day she moved in. Kara came over to help and couldn't understand why her father insisted on keeping the dilapidated dry sink cabinet, which he always complained about, especially when Sharon had a really beautiful curio cabinet that would have been far more aesthetic. Her curiosity was forgotten, however, when Sharon offered her the curio cabinet—which Kara was thrilled to have. Rusty continued to come home on his college breaks and often on weekends. The address might be different but the feeling of welcome was the same.

In May they would celebrate their six month anniversary. Andy was going to take Sharon to the opera, _Le Nozze di Figaro_ (The Marriage of Figaro.) It was a surprise. The choice of opera was not arbitrary and he carried a small black velvet box in his pocket.

It contained something sparkly.


End file.
